<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Lost On The Way by TeaHouseMoon</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984292">Lost On The Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon'>TeaHouseMoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Break Up, Flashbacks, Jealous!Oliver, Jealousy, M/M, Modern time AU, Porn with Feelings, Post Break Up, Sex, Smut, Texting, There will be a Happy Ending!, elio and Oliver in New York, jealous!Elio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:15:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elio had been accepted into Juilliard, he thought his heart would explode with joy. It was a dream come true, and now it had really happened, and just when he’d got back together with Oliver, too. When he’d told him, Oliver had, of course, been just as happy as him. He lived in New York, and with Elio set to move there, everything seemed to be slotting into place. </p><p> </p><p>So, what happened? </p><p> </p><p>This is a Modern AU.</p><p> </p><p>**COMPLETED**</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oliver/Elio Perlman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>365</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another multi chapter story so soon?? I hate my inspiration!! Haha.<br/>This story is set in modern times, for ease and also because I LOVE Elio and Oliver texting each other. </p><p>I hope you enjoy this new adventure...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Elio sighed.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d been trying to study all day, the Greek drama book open in front of him, pages shining in his face as if to mock him - but his mind had hardly wanted to cooperate. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And it was frustrating, because he liked to read, he liked to study, usually. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He rubbed at his eyes, annoyed. Feeling like he wanted to be anywhere but here, in his room, in his dorm, at college.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His phone beeped then. Softly, because he hated having ringtones on, he kept it silent most of the times aside from when he planned not to look at it for an extended amount of time, like when he was studying. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He picked up the device. It was a text message. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">A text message from Oliver. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">Hey. I just wanted to see how you were doing. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">Hope you’re okay. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">I miss you. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">O. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio sighed. Allowed himself to look at the words on the screen for a few more seconds. Then, he locked the screen, threw the phone on his bed. Set his jaw and reminded himself of what he needed to do.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Right now, he needed some air. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He got up, and left his room, intent on going for a walk around the block - and his phone remained, forgotten, on the messy sheets of his bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was going so well, at the start. </span>
</p><p class="p2">When Elio had been accepted into Juilliard, he thought his heart would explode with joy. It was a dream come true, and now it had really happened, and just when he’d got back together with Oliver, too. When he’d told him, Oliver had, of course, been just as happy as him. He lived in New York, and with Elio set to move there, everything seemed to be slotting into place.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio had left Italy and moved to the City that Fall. He’d started classes, and revelled in being able to see his boyfriend whenever he could. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Until things had started taking a turn.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">In the end, Elio gave up trying to read the chapter that had been staring at him, fruitlessly, the whole day.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Closing up the book, he got up, and, sighing again, he walked to the common lounge, just for something to do. There were four more students living in the same college suite as him - two girls and two guys- and two of them were there, drinking and chatting. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio dropped down on the sofa, his gaze darting, bored, to the TV, tuned to a basketball game.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio!” Lucy, one of his roommates, clapped her hands together when she saw him. “We were just thinking of going out to that party down the hall. You coming?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio eyed the beers on the tables, two empty bottles signalling the party had already started, anyway. He was tired, but honestly, he needed the distraction.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes. Why not.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">Just the time to change his shirt, attempt to tidy up his curls on the mirror - no chance that they would behave that night - and then Elio followed Lucy and Rob out of the apartment. He could hear the noise coming from the party already, drunk kids stumbling out of the door down the hallway; he wondered whether he had any energy for that - and then his phone vibrated in his pocket.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He pulled it out - Lucy and Rob walking ahead of him, chatting and laughing, Elio was sure something was going to happen between them soon - and saw the text.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"> <em>I know you don’t want to talk to me. But I hope you don’t mind me texting you. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"> <em>I still hope someday to see a reply from you. Even just one word. Anything. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"> <em>O. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio re-read the text. Looked up, guilty, but Lucy and Rob weren’t paying attention, busy as they were negotiating their way into the apartment where the party was in full swing. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He swallowed, feeling his heart give an extra beat.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Yes. He needed to go to this party. He needed this distraction. He needed to drink, and forget, at least for that night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> <br/><br/></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Things had been going well, with Elio spending more and more time at Oliver’s rather than at his dorm - and it had begun to almost feel normal, almost expected, for him to come home to Oliver after a long day of lectures. It didn’t even matter that he had to commute from Juilliard to Columbia when he did, whereas his dorm was in the campus - he didn’t care. And sometimes Oliver came to pick him up in his car, especially in those nights it was raining, or when he would kiss Elio on the mouth, smile, and say ‘I’m taking you out for dinner tonight.’ Elio felt spoiled, and - yes. Happy.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But of course, something must have been lingering under his skin. A fear, a worry, perhaps a relic of the first time they’d separated - when Oliver had gone back to America only to call him, months later, to say he was getting married. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The wedding had never happened - Oliver couldn’t go through with it. </span>
</p><p class="p3">But something had stayed in Elio, no matter how hard he tried to forget, to move on. <span class="s2">Oliver was handsome. He was gorgeous. He was charming and charismatic. <br/></span>Elio adored walking on his arm, on the arm of such a well-read, well-spoken, attractive college Professor. But he certainly noticed the looks that came their way. Both women and men staring, gazing, interested in finding out who Oliver was when they didn’t know him - and eager for a reason to speak to him when they did know him.</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">It was constant. And Elio had mentioned it to Oliver once - in passing, as a teasing comment. ‘I’m pretty sure that woman was checking you out.’<br/></span> <span class="s2">But of course Oliver had dismissed it. He wasn’t vain, or self-absorbed, he hardly even cared about what his hair looked like or what he should wear for class, if not to look presentable and professional at work.So, he’d laughed, kissed Elio’s temple, and said, ‘No, she wasn’t.’ </span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And so Elio had not remarked on it again. He’d tried to ignore it.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">That night, he’s decided to surprise Oliver, and meet him at Columbia after his class, perhaps go grab dinner together.<br/></span>He knew where his last class was and so he peeked though the entrance, looking down at the long set of stairs that led to the stage. The room was empty, but he saw Oliver there, talking to a few students, and so Elio made his way down. Lingered to the side for a bit, waiting for a lull in the conversation.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We’ll certainly talk about Capote soon,” Oliver was saying - and when he caught Elio’s eye, he smiled. Elio walked over. The students, two girls, blonde, tall, gave him a look, but didn’t acknowledge him - their eyes and attention only for Oliver.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh yes, please. I love your way of explaining. I could listen to you all day, if you don’t mind me saying,” one of the girls said, with a small, soft laugh.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Me too!” The other chipped in. “How can your wife even get anything done, with a voice like yours telling her stuff!” </span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">More laughter. </span> <span class="s2">Elio looked from one girl to the other, and then to Oliver. </span></p><p class="p2">“Ah. There’s no wife to listen to my ramblings,” Oliver said, with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “Anyway. I must go. Look out for my email with the pages you need for next week.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As they walked away, leaving the girls behind, chattering amongst them, Elio swallowed. He felt so uneasy. So... irritated, for some reason. The whole exchange had been ordinary, and almost boring, no more than small talk - and yet it had left a weird feeling on his skin.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver was certainly going to say it was nothing. Elio pursed his lips, and sped up his step to walk alongside Oliver - and the older man curled an arm around Elio’s waist as they walked out of the building.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Surprise visit tonight, huh?” Oliver said gently, pulling Elio closer as they walked. “What’s the occasion?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I just felt like being with you,” Elio replied - though he didn’t look at Oliver. Kept his eyes ahead of them. “Why? Is it a problem?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, of course not, silly.” Oliver pulled him close, kissed his hair. “You made me happy.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio did not respond. He’d been short with Oliver, and he didn’t even know why. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver took his hand, and squeezed it. “You hungry?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio swallowed again. He wished he could get rid of this stupid feeling, these thoughts in his head that he couldn’t even identify. He’d come to see Oliver at work because he wanted to spend time with him, and now he was ruining it with his overthinking. It was stupid.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah,” he forced himself to answer. Then he looked up at Oliver, finally gave him a smile. “Yeah. Let’s get some dinner.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Sooo, what’s your drink of choice, dude?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Rob’s ironic question cut through Elio’s reverie then. He blinked, remembered he was at a party, one with loud music and a lot of smoke, and he needed to at least look like he was enjoying himself.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What’s that stuff?” He asked, pointing to Rob’s plastic glass.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Vodka. And some soda, I guess”, Rob laughed, and jiggled the glass in front of Elio’s face, the liquid inside swishing dangerously from side to side.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio took a breath. “I think I’ll try and find some of that.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He walked to the table, where all the plastic glasses and pitchers of randomly mixed cocktails sat. Made himself a drink.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then, he grabbed his phone. Looked at the texts again - the one from that afternoon, the one Oliver had sent that evening - and pressed delete.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Lucy came into the lounge the next day, when Elio was sitting there, sipping from a mug of coffee that he’d been nursing for so long now it had gone cold.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“How’s your head?” she asked, coming to sit on a stool by the breakfast table. She had a spliff in her hand, which she lit a moment later. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio ran a hand through his hair. His curls were even more tangled than the night before, and he closed his eyes, tried to test his headache. It wasn’t too bad. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Better, thanks.” He’d drunk a lot last night, but thankfully, he’d thought to drink water, too. “You?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lucy raised the joint in her hand and nodded to it. “This will sort me out.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio chuckled. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Lucy spoke again. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Sooo. Wanna tell me about that boyfriend of yours?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t look up. “Ex. Ex boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I know, but. He’s still texting you, isn’t he? Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at your phone yesterday...”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Damn it. Elio thought he’d been subtle - or that Lucy had been distracted, at least.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m not texting back. He’ll stop.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“But why?” Lucy crossed her legs, rested her chin on her hand as she faced Elio a little better from her stool. She had long, straight blonde hair, and today she’d arranged it into a braid. Elio wished they could just talk about what was happening with her and Rob instead. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She reached out and offered him her spliff, and Elio took it from her, took a drag from it. “Come on. Talk”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio rolled his eyes. “It just wasn’t working.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Remember when you and I first met, on move in day?” Lucy took the cigarette back, and giggled. “I don’t think I saw you again after that for like, two weeks. You spent all that time with him, and it wasn’t working?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked down. He didn’t know how to explain. He didn’t know if he could explain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He was curled up on Oliver’s couch, reading a book while Oliver was out buying some milk and other necessities, when he heard a ringtone.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio startled, almost, focussed as he was in the pages, and then looked towards the source of the sound - and realised Oliver had forgotten his cellphone. It had probably accidentally got hidden under the pillow just before Oliver left. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio picked it up, saw it was a number Oliver hadn’t registered in his list. Considered what to do, but then thought to answer, let whoever that was know Oliver was going to be reachable later.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">A female voice responded on the other side. She seemed confused.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oliver? That you?”</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">“N-no. This is Elio.” </span> <span class="s3"><em>His boyfriend,</em> </span> <span class="s2">he wanted to say, but felt like that would be petty. And so he didn’t. “Oliver is not here right now.”</span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh. Well, this is Tina, Oliver’s colleague. We said we’d meet for coffee - do you know when he’s back?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio swallowed. Frowned.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t know this person.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">He felt like lying. Saying he didn’t know.</span>Telling her not to call again.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But he couldn’t do that. He swallowed again, and set his jaw.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“He’s just out for some groceries. He’ll be back shortly, I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Alright, great, I’ll call back. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The line went silent after that. Elio found himself staring at the screen, and frowning - more at himself than anything else. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d probably sounded like Oliver’s secretary, or something, instead of his partner. She probably wanted to ask him out, in fact, she’d probably done so already - and had no idea that Oliver was taken.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio sighed. Put Oliver’s phone down on the sofa, closed his book. He felt so frustrated, and uneasy - he didn’t even know why. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Oliver - and he told him so later, when Oliver got back.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s just - why is she asking you out?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“She’s not asking me out,” Oliver replied. His voice was calm, and he put away groceries, tidily, in the kitchen. “She just asked if I was around.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“She said you said you’d go for coffee with her.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver stood and then walked over to Elio. Reached out gently with his hand and made the boy lift his chin, Elio’s lips pursed into a pout.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You go for coffee and drinks with friends. This is no different.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio turned his head to look away, shrugged off Oliver’s gentle touch.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You know my friends. I don’t know this Tina.” He emphasised the name, annoyed - though he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed at Oliver, at the situation, or at himself for letting it bother him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He made to move away, intent on putting some distance between them, but Oliver was quicker. He reached out again, his fingers wrapping around Elio’s wrist, gently holding him back, pulling him towards himself.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey.” Elio looked up, met Oliver’s eyes. “I don’t want you to be upset by this. It’s just a coffee with a colleague. She works at the faculty with me - teaches American literature.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio held his frown in place. “I’m not upset.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Good.” Oliver’s hand went to cup Elio’s cheek, and the boy let him. “Come with me. So you can meet her?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver was looking into his eyes, and his blue ones were wide, seemed sincere - were sincere, Elio was sure.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t know why he felt so nervous, so moody. He felt stupid.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He let Oliver hug him, and hid his face against his boyfriend’s shoulder, sighing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It just - it just didn’t work out,” Elio said, as a response to Lucy’s prodding. “We were too different.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He knew it was a lie. Yes, they were different, but their differences only made them more compatible, complementary, in a way that Elio didn’t think could have happened with anyone else. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And those words seemed so bland - so foreign to the intensity of what he’d felt for Oliver, that Elio was almost ashamed of having used them to describe the only important romantic relationship in his life.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">But he needed to say something to Lucy - and the girl didn’t insist. </span>Just nodded, and stubbed her joint out into an ashtray.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Well, I still think you should reply. The guy is going to keep texting you otherwise - at least tell him to stop. Let him move on.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She raised her eyebrows at Elio, and smiled in goodbye, leaving him alone in the lounge to contemplate her words. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They sometimes went out, sometimes with friends, most times alone, and Elio had relished the opportunity to finally go on dates with Oliver. He felt so grown up and at the same time, silly and frivolous like a damsel in a bad romance novel - and he loved it. To walk alongside Oliver, to let him lead him by the hand, let him open the door to the restaurant for him, let him choose the wine; gaze into Oliver’s eyes as the older man held his hand across the table. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And then to go home, and fall into Oliver’s arms as soon as they closed the door behind them.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver wanted him just as much as he did when they first got together, back in Crema. Perhaps even more. </span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">He spent a lot of time telling Elio how beautiful he was; how he loved his body, his hands, his skin, his mouth.<br/></span>Their lovemaking stretched into the early hours of the night, like they couldn’t get enough of each other.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Laying in his single bed, now, alone, Elio closed his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to think about that - but he couldn’t help it. Even when he managed to convince his mind that he didn’t miss Oliver - his body betrayed him. His body missed Oliver’s. Missed his large, smooth hands, stroking down Elio’s skin, slow, from his shoulder to his thigh. Missed the teeth that sank slowly into the side of Elio’s throat. Missed Oliver’s long fingers, the ones that wrapped around him, the ones that pushed inside him and touched him where he was the most sensitive. </span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">Missed the smell of Oliver, his warmth; him, breathing down Elio’s back, growling softly from deep within his throat.<br/></span> <span class="s2">Missed the way that, the day after, his own face was flushed, his lips red and swollen - and Oliver praised him for it. </span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio turned around on his bed, covered himself with the bedsheets. He was hard, and he wanted to touch himself - but he wasn’t going to. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He wanted Oliver. He did. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sighing, he stared into the darkness of his room. Across from him, in his bed, Rob was asleep, snoring softly. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio picked up his phone. And before his brain could try to stop him, before reason could make him desist, he opened a text message for Oliver. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"><em>I miss you too</em>, he wrote, only. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And sent it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think I fancast Lucy as Cara Delevingne... ☺️</p><p>Please leave me a comment you are liking this story! I loved reading all your comments to the first chapter!  X</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>Hey, baby. Will be back a little later today. Just grabbing a drink with some people from work. See you really soon x O.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio stared at the screen for a few more moments. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s2">He bit his lip, and sighed. He could feel himself tense - and he didn’t like it.<br/></span>Oliver was just going for a drink with friends. And yet - yet Elio was frustrated, upset, because he’d been planning something. Today, it was a month since he’d moved to New York - a month since they’d started their relationship properly, in the same place, and not long distance. He’d been planning to take Oliver out for dinner, he’d pay this time for a change, he’d been planning to go somewhere romantic, celebrate.</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was a huge milestone for him, or at least it seemed so. But now he realised how silly he’d been.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver lived in New York City. Why should tonight be any different for him? He had his life. His friends, his activities. Elio was just an addition to an already established life.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">How ridiculous he’d been.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He clicked his phone shut, decided not to answer. There was nothing to say anyway. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver had come back late that night, when Elio was already in bed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d debated going back to his dorm, but in the end, he didn’t. He was tired, and didn’t feel like getting on the subway, or even calling a taxi. He promised himself he’d go back to his own apartment the next day.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s2">And when Oliver got back, Elio was half-asleep, but felt him bending over and kissing his hair. <br/></span>Oliver smelled of alcohol, but when he nudged Elio to lie back, so that he could take him into his arms, Elio acquiesced. Let him kiss his neck, his shoulder.</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver smelled of alcohol, and something else. Perfume, a feminine one, faint on his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His heart beating fast, Elio set his jaw, and turned his face, away from Oliver’s. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Tired?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s voice was soft, careful. Caring. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He hadn’t noticed Elio’s turmoil. And Elio didn’t say anything. Just nodded, kept his eyes closed - they were starting to burn. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Waited, until Oliver kissed his cheek, and let him go, padding to the bathroom to get ready for bed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Please, can we talk? Just for a few minutes. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>O. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio put down his phone. Why did he send that message last night? What did he think was going to happen?</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d told himself he would be mature, and responsible and that he needed to look after his heart for once, and yet he hadn’t been able to stick to his resolution for more than one week. So much for being mature.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His hand trembled as he ran it through his curls, tangling his fingers in them, giving them a squeeze in frustration. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It would be so easy to just give in. To text back, tell Oliver to call. Even better, to go to him, see him in person. Feel his hands and his body against him again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">With a quiet growl in the back of his throat he stood, and went to fill a glass of water by the sink. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He needed to remember how he felt, when they were together. How he’d hurt. And perhaps he could let Oliver speak to him but - what was that going to help? They’d discussed before - nothing had changed. Because there was nothing to change. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What if we go out tonight? Go to a gay club?” Lucy said. Looking at herself in the hallway mirror, she pressed her lips together, touched her mouth with a finger, made a face. “Ugh. I need to put some make up on.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What would that do? We went out the other night and all we got was a huge hangover,” Elio sighed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes, but,” Lucy walked over, plopped down on the sofa next to Elio. “We go to a gay club, we’ll have fun, and I might even see you in the arms of some hottie who wants nothing better than a crazy night of hanky panky with you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“Hanky panky?” Elio raised his eyebrows, tried and failed not to laugh. “Are we in 1981 or something?”</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“The cool kids say this now, Elio, not my fault you’re out of touch.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. They don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Before Lucy could continue, Rob stepped in. “I think Lucy’s right. We should go!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio rolled his eyes. Rob ran with any excuse to go out on the town with Lucy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Fine,” he agreed, reluctantly, but eager for Lucy to stop nagging. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The club was just as Elio expected. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Noisy, sweaty, with bad music playing. Mostly full of guys on the prowl. Elio wasn’t looking for a hook up, no matter how many times Lucy said he should go for it, and so he stood mostly by the bar, drinking.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lucy and Rob were drinking, too, and dancing, and at some point they started making out. Elio almost rolled his eyes - so predictable. He drank some more. And some more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">In a club full of people, he felt very lonely. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He looked at Rob and Lucy, still hooking up. He looked at the couples on the dance floor.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He took his phone out, composed a text. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"><em>What is there to talk about</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The response came almost instantly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"><em>Just let me talk to you. Can I call you? O.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio bit his lower lip, and frowned. His head felt so cloudy, but the alcohol felt good in his veins. That’s what he was supposed to do, right? Get out, and have fun. Meet people. Have a life, instead of hanging onto a boyfriend like he was the only important thing for him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>No. Can’t. Ima at a club. A gay clubb. Ha ha ha. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He noticed his spelling mistakes too late. He knew Oliver would read right into it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Are you drunk? </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>No. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then he sent another text. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"><em>Maybe</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>What club are you in?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio took a deep breath. He hadn’t planned in getting into a long conversation with Oliver. Wasn’t he supposed to be in the moment, have fun? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Why? You want 2 come </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">What was he even saying. He really must be more drunk than he’d thought. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As if on cue, his head gave another spin; his stomach squeezed uncomfortably. How much did he have to drink? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Elio, please tell me you’re not on your own. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Tell me where you are?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s text made him feel even more nauseous. He was supposed to have a life. Meet people. Act responsible and mature, prove that he wasn’t just a spoiled, clueless kid who had no idea what he was doing - prove that he was worthy of being Oliver’s partner... and now? Now he’d just done the exact opposite, and shown Oliver that he hadn’t grown up at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He saw Rob, and walked over, making space in between the club goers while trying to keep his nausea at bay.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m - I’m going out for some air,” he murmured to his roommate, and didn’t wait for a response, just headed towards the exit. He was hoping the cold air hitting his face would make him feel better, but it didn’t happen, and so he looked for somewhere to sit down, eventually settling for the sidewalk. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And it was there that Lucy found him, a few minutes later.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey,” she crouched beside him, rubbed his back. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t look up from where he held his head in his hands, trying to stop the world from spinning.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But a moment later, his stomach roiled again; and he only had the time to lean over before he was throwing up on the pavement.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He still clutched his phone in his hand, and felt Lucy gently taking it from him, while rubbing his back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He tried to breathe, and calm down his burning chest - and heard Lucy talk softly on the phone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Could you come here? Please? Yes, with your car. I really don’t think he can get on the subway in this state. Yeah, I’ll stay with him. See you soon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">”</span>How old are you, Elio?”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The question had come sort of unexpected, and Elio wanted to look away, feeling under scrutiny, but instead made himself look up. Oliver’s friend Jay was taking a sip from his glass of wine, and Elio held the base of his coke bottle tight in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m nineteen.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The guy nodded, smirked. “Thought so.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His answer, the way he’d responded - Elio frowned, confused. What did he mean by that? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned to Oliver, sitting beside him at the table, but his boyfriend was chatting to a friend next to him and was distracted, and definitely hadn’t heard. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wanted to retort. Ask for clarification. But his heart beat fast, and he was still trying to find the courage to speak up, when the girl next to Jay spoke instead. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I like your name, though,” she smiled, leaned towards him from her side of the table. “Very Italian. And you have Italian looks. Oliver has always liked them kind of... exotic.” She laughed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jay laughed with her. “Ah, yes! What was the name of the other one? Something like... Giovanni? Jonathan?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And the girl laughed again. “I can’t remember! But Oliver definitely has a type!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio swallowed down the words he’d wanted to say, and sat back, feeling humiliation burn in his chest. There was so much that had irritated him about that exchange that he didn’t know where he’d even begin to explain. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As if feeling something was off, Oliver turned to him. “Okay?”he asked softly, squeezing Elio’s hand in his. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes. Yeah, fine,” Elio lied. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As they got back from dinner, Elio stayed quiet. They were both tired, and it was past midnight, so Oliver just held his hand while the walked from the subway stop to his building. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Oliver pulled out the keys to open his door, Elio finally spoke. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who’s Giovanni?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oliver opened the door. Let Elio walk in first. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Giovanni?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio dumped his school bag on the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your ex.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know a Giovanni.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ok, well. Jonathan, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oliver sighed. Hung the keys on the hook next to the door and then walked to Elio. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you want to know?” He asked, gently, raising his hand to stroke a rebel curl back from Elio’s forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Elio moved away from his touch. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why can’t you just tell me? You never tell me anything,” he said, irritation in his voice and in his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean, I never tell you anything? When have I ever not told you something.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Always! You never tell me anything, and I have to find out from your friends who - who instead know everything about me, and about where I’m from, and - actually the only thing they don’t know is my age! Because you probably didn’t wanna tell them. Because I’m too young, right. It’s embarrassing for you.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio ended his outburst, needing to take a breath, his heart beating wildly. There was tension throughout his body. He was so, so irritated. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oliver held his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re putting words in my mouth. None of what you’re saying is true, I’m not embarrassed of anything that has to do with you.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really?” Elio frowned even deeper, his features contracting in anger. “Was that why those people were practically laughing at me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your friends! That - that guy, Jay? Ray? And the girl next to him, but oh wait, she was talking about this Jonathan... and you still haven’t told me who this is!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio’s voice had raised, and he knew, now, that he’d lost control of his emotions. “But you weren’t even paying attention. You didn’t even notice!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jesus, Elio.” Oliver’s eyes were gleaming, now, and not in a good way, his jaw tense - his voice raised, too. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice, okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t keeping an eye on everything that was going on at dinner. If they were offensive, or rude, I’m sorry! But I can’t control them, okay? I just can’t. Not everybody uses their brains as much as they should.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well maybe you shouldn’t be friends with them!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this what the problem is?” Oliver tilted his head at him. “Why don’t you tell me who I should be friends with, then? Give me a list? Would you prefer that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! That’s not the problem!” Elio’s voice cracked, and he breathed in, gritting his teeth, desperately wanting to keep hold of his resolve. He didn’t know when this had become an ugly fight; it wasn’t what he’d wanted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a moment of silence, both of them staring at each other. And then Oliver spoke. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then - then what is it?” His voice was softer; calmer. His eyes, which had hardened before, were now worried. “Please tell me why you’re so upset.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He couldn’t understand. And Elio couldn’t explain. He didn’t know how - he didn’t even know if he was making any sense at all. If he was just being emotional, and stupid. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shook his head. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just - forget it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He walked to the bedroom. Grabbed one of the pillows. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to sleep on the sofa,” he said, and walked to the living room, leaving Oliver standing in the hallway, alone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Elio. Come with me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still sitting on the sidewalk, Elio held his head in his hands, and refused to look up. He could recognise that voice anywhere, obviously. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you’re just in my head, please leave. Just leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a soft chuckle. “No, I’m here, for real. Come on, Elio.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you here,” Elio murmured. He felt tired, his head kept spinning, and now he was full of embarrassment, too. What a jackpot of an evening. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I called you and Lucy picked up. You’re not feeling well. I’m taking you home. Come on.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio looked up. Who did Oliver think he was, deciding that Elio should leave? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stood, a bit wobbly, bracing himself against a wave of nausea. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want to go home.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He cringed inwardly. He sounded like a bratty eight year old child. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Elio, you’re sick. Even if you stay, you’re not going to enjoy yourself. You’re probably going to spend the rest of the night on this sidewalk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not,” Elio looked at him, piqued again. “I’m having fun. Leave me alone!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He made to walk away, but another wave of dizziness hit, and he had to close his eyes to battle it away. Shit. Frustrated, he grit his teeth, and made himself walk, trying to get away from Oliver. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Elio.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio couldn’t move any further. His wrist had been captured by Oliver’s hand, strong fingers holding tight and not letting him move. He tried to shrug it off, but Oliver’s hold was steely, didn’t budge. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me go,” Elio huffed, “you’re hurting me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He almost didn’t even register how, but he found himself pulled towards Oliver, both his arms held by Oliver’s hands. Elio’s head was spinning even more, and he was ready to give up. He was tired, tired. He just wanted to sleep, and clear this fog that had stationed itself inside his head. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Elio, I’m not leaving you here. Not when you’re this drunk. I’m taking you home, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio had no strength to rebel. He didn’t want to, either. He let Oliver walk him to his car, let him help him sit on the passenger side. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Oliver took the driver’s seat, and fastened both of their seatbelts, Elio spoke again, with all the energy he could muster. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sleeping with you, Oliver.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He heard Oliver tsk, thought he saw him shaking his head, through his blurred vision. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If only you actually knew how drunk you are, Elio,” he said, not looking at him. “I don’t want anything from you. I just want you safe. And I’d feel much better knowing that you are at my apartment rather than alone at your dorm.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio leant back on the car seat, closed his eyes. He was exhausted, so exhausted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you say? Can I take you back to mine?” Oliver asked, and his voice was soft. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was still waiting for Elio’s answer, before he turned on the engine and drove them anywhere. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And, despite everything, Elio felt warm. And not alcohol-warm, not something sickly, wrong. He felt warm, because he felt cared for. Looked after. And the fact that Oliver was waiting for his permission to do anything - Elio’s heart swelled. It was what he loved about Oliver - the way the older man was so careful with him, the way he wanted to protect him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elio sighed. Nodded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Oliver finally pulled the car out on the road, directed towards his apartment. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It’s so important to me to read comments to know that you guys are reading and want me to continue. </p><p>At the risk of repeating myself, I would never just assume that readers want more of my stories... if it wasn’t for people commenting, I would have stopped long ago!</p><p>So please, if you are reading, consider leaving me a comment to let me know that you are here. </p><p>And if you subscribe to my account you’ll get notifications when any of my stories gets an update. </p><p>Love from me  x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The faint noises from outside woke Elio, slowly.</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">There were slivers of light coming through the curtains that covered the window, and he burrowed his face further into the pillow to hide from them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The fabric was soft. It smelled like clean cotton. Elio pulled his knees towards his chest, curled up tighter. The bed was big, comfortable. Familiar. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And then he remembered. He was at Oliver’s apartment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He made himself open his eyes, feeling his heart flutter with anxiety as memories came back from the night before. <br/></span>
  <span class="s2">He looked down at his body - he was in his boxers, still had his t-shirt and socks on. The spot on the bed next to him hadn’t been used. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio’s face warmed up with embarrassment. God. What had he said? What had he done? </span>
  <span class="s2">His head hurt, a dull pain at his temples. His throat was dry. He turned towards the night stand, found a plastic water bottle waiting. He took a sip. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He needed to leave. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He forced himself to sit up, and then to stand, closed his eyes for a moment against a wave of dizziness. He found his trousers on the chair next to the bed, put them on, clumsily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame his messy curls, knowing it was a lost battle. Took a deep breath, and readied himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The situation reminded him of some time ago, before his break up with Oliver. When they’d had that awful, stupid fight, after having been to dinner with Oliver’s friends, when Elio had slept on the sofa. The next morning he’d left Oliver’s apartment before his boyfriend had even woken up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They hadn’t spoken for three days, after that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He really wanted to leave undetected this time, too, avoid himself the embarrassment and humiliation of having to face up to whatever had happened the night before. It was bad enough that Oliver had seen him in that state, let alone having to rescue him - Elio was going to have a word with Lucy about that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But it seemed things weren’t going to go the same way this time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio.” Oliver’s voice, calling from the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio held his breath, feeling his face burn. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Are you leaving? I made some breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The boy’s stomach squeezed at the mention of food. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon - yet another reason why he’d managed to get so drunk. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He clutched his phone tighter in his hand, made himself keep his eyes ahead, fixed on the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I - I have to go. Sorry, I - I need to leave.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s voice was soft when he spoke next. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s Saturday. Whatever you have to do - can’t it wait? I’m sure you’re hungover and some food would make you feel better.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d padded closer, though he still kept a respectful distance - and Elio allowed himself to turn towards him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s face seemed serene, if a little worried. “I made pancakes. I know you like them.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked away. God. He’d... he’d missed Oliver. He’d missed his tenderness. He’d missed these moments. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He couldn’t believe Oliver still wanted to spend time with him, after last night, after everything. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He looked down, his cheeks warm, and chest burning. When he looked back up, he gave Oliver a small, tentative smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m a little hungry. Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver smiled wide. “Come on, then. Let’s eat.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They sat together at Oliver’s breakfast table, like they’d done so many times in the past. But now, of course, it was different, so very different. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio kept his eyes on his food, while Oliver, next to him, ate quietly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio had been expecting conversation - had been expecting questions. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I thought you were going to tell me off,” he murmured. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver looked at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Why should I?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t know,” Elio shook his head, messy curls moving. He swallowed. “Because of last night, for - for making a scene.” The memory of the night before stung.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver shrugged. “You were drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I just thought that you - I thought you’d be angry. I thought you’d criticise me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was Oliver’s turn to look away now, look down at his food, halfway eaten, but he didn’t make a movement to keep eating. Elio swallowed - there. He’d managed to irritate him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio. You need to stop putting words in my mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s voice was calm, but flat. Severe. He didn’t seem angry - but his eyes were firm.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m not-“</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, I think you are. And you were, before, too. When we -“ Oliver shook his head, pressed his lips together as if he couldn’t continue. “It’s fine,” he sighed. “Let’s just eat.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He seemed genuinely regretful of having spoken those words, and so Elio kept quiet, forced himself to eat a few mouthfuls of food. They finished their breakfast in silence, and then Oliver stood, took their plates to the sink.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio could no longer stand the awkwardness, and so he spoke.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oliver, I - look, I’m sorry if I said something that offended you. It wasn’t what I wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver turned around. Held his eyes, and after a moment, spoke again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t know what’s going on here, Elio, but - you’re so intelligent, always, and yet you’re being so, I don’t know. Dense, right now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio frowned. Oliver continued.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You’re thinking about offending me, now? Why? Since you never wondered about what your behaviour has done to me the past few weeks?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio’s heartbeat quickened. He felt full of anxiety, but forced himself to hold Oliver’s firm gaze.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You’ve - you’ve left me. And why? Because you’ve decided that I don’t love you enough, that I’m not there for you enough? That I’m lying about being in love with you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s eyes were wide. Blue, like the ocean, that blue that Elio adored, that he’d always loved to get lost into. They were blue and wide and yet stern. Expectant.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, Oliver, I didn’t - that wasn’t the reason.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“Then what was it,” Oliver took a step closer. Elio wanted to look away, the other man’s intense stare making him crumble slowly, making him shiver, but he didn’t, didn’t want to make Oliver even more upset.</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I think I deserve an explanation, since you never cared to be an adult about breaking up with me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The words made Elio flinch. He stiffened.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t think - I don’t think it’s fair that you’re forcing me to do this, now. It’s not fair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Not fair,” Oliver’s eyebrows rose with indignation. There was a long, tense moment, and Elio would have wanted to say so much more - he didn’t want to talk, not about this, not now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d been an idiot, he knew that already. He didn’t know what was going on, he just knew he couldn’t do this, but he did miss Oliver, and he did love him. He did.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Fine, look,” Oliver sighed. “I love you. You know I do, but I’ll tell you a hundred more times if you need me to. I never wanted to lose you.” Another long moment, and Elio’s heart drummed in his chest, in his ears - he felt something bad was coming.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver continued. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I love you, but I can’t do this. I can’t - chase you, call you, beg you, only for you to still - still pretend I’ve done something to justify you breaking up with me. If I have done something, then tell me. If you can’t tell me, then - then this is what is not fair. You, punishing me for something I haven’t done. Stringing me along.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, Oliver, I - I’m not. I’m not stringing you along. I’m not punishing you.” Elio felt panic rise in his veins.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You can’t even see that you’re doing it, baby.” Oliver’s voice had become soft, all of sudden. He looked away. His eyes were bright. “I can’t do this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You can’t...”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I can’t keep going like this. I can’t miss you, I can’t want you, I can’t hurt for you and not know why you’re not with me. And you not being able to tell me. I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He put away the napkin he was holding, and sighed. Took a few steps towards Elio, and Elio stood. His heart was beating so fast in his chest that the blood pumped painfully in his head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I love you. But I can’t keep wondering what happened.” He sighed again. “You can stay as long as you like. Just close the door behind you when you leave.”</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He reached down, slowly; kissed Elio on the cheek. Lingered there, for a moment; and then pulled back, and left the room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Leaving Elio standing there, heart in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The day that everything ended, had started with them making love.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver had spent so long courting him in bed, touching and kissing him. Elio had come two, three times, just by Oliver’s hands and mouth, and he was exhausted by the end when the older man took him, from behind, holding him tight against his chest, murmuring against his cheek that he loved him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio lay in bed after, half napping. He listened to the muted sounds of Oliver in the shower; until his eye fell on the phone on the nightstand next to him. Oliver’s. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It had been lighting up for a while, text notifications appearing on the screen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio bit his lower lip. Forced his eyes to close. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It wasn’t right to spy on someone else’s phone. It wasn’t right to spy on Oliver’s phone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">But who was it that kept texting? Who was looking for Oliver with such insistence?</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Was that supposed to happen? </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t know what to think. It could be anyone, it didn’t mean anything - it didn’t mean that it was someone who was trying something with Oliver, it didn’t mean that Oliver was thinking of cheating - or cheating, already. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But Oliver was so attractive. Elio didn’t miss the looks from people as they walked down the street, saw how his students smiled at him, both men and women. Oliver had plenty to choose from, if he ever wanted someone else, even for just one night. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio had heard of so many people that had no idea their partner was cheating, and just found out one day, and it was shocking. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And how could he know that he wasn’t boring? All the people who Oliver knew in New York seemed interesting. Older, with busy jobs, who’d travelled around the world, who could talk about anything Elio could talk about and more. None of them went to school anymore. Some were already in their thirties, had houses and families. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio closed his eyes shut, turned around in bed, giving his back to the phone. </span>
  <span class="s2">He heard the soft sound of Oliver padding into the bedroom; and then of him picking up his phone, unlocking it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio turned around. Oliver was naked, save for a towel around his hips; he was so handsome. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I think you got some texts.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver was still looking at his screen, typing on the buttons. “Hm-hmm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Who is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver was distracted. “Oh. No one you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Okay but what do they want?” Elio held his eyes on Oliver, firmly, until the older man clicked his phone shut and placed it back on the nightstand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver crawled on the mattress, bent over playfully until his face was inches away from Elio’s. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Mmh. Nothing.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He kissed the boy on the side of his mouth, moving to kiss him down his throat - but Elio pulled back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, wait. I’m serious.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver shook his head. “Why is it important?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio lifted his chin. “Because it is?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver pulled back, too, sitting on his haunches. “You know I don’t hide anything from you, Elio.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Do I? It seems to me like you’re hiding something now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Do you tell me about every text you get? Every call? Every friend you see?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s voice was tense. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Please don’t start with that again, you always say that when you’re avoiding something.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m not avoiding anything!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Then tell me!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They stared at each other for a long moment. They’d both raised their voices. They’d both lost their tempers. Elio felt adrenaline cursing through his body, felt anger. Why was Oliver trying to make him feel like he was in the wrong? </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio wanted to speak, wanted to say everything that was going through his mind - but found he didn’t even know where to start. Oliver wouldn’t understand the way Elio had been feeling. Oliver couldn’t understand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Since it’s so important to know,” Oliver spoke first. “It was my brother’s wife, Kate. She told me my nephew is having a birthday party. She wanted us to go.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver pulled back all the way, until he could stand from the bed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio stared at him. His heart was still beating fast. <br/></span>
  <span class="s2">He didn’t feel guilty. He wouldn’t have had any way to know. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You can look at my texts if you think I’m lying,” Oliver said. Picked up his phone from the nightstand, threw it on the mattress. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio refused to back down. “You would have asked me the same thing if I’d got like a hundred texts while we were fucking.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s eyes were hard. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. I wouldn’t. Because I trust you.” He was quiet for a moment. “And it’s ‘fucking’, now. Huh?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His voice was low. Calm, eerily so. He stood by the side of the bed, arms limp by his sides. His expression was closed off, Elio could not read him. He suddenly felt very exposed, stupidly so, naked as he was even though the bed sheet covered him from the waist down. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He swallowed - but there was something bitter, something huge, in the middle of his chest, something he couldn’t push down. He stood, pulling the sheet along to keep himself covered. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“That’s how you made it feel.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He picked up his underwear, pulled it on. Looked for the rest of his clothes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Where are you going,” Oliver called, though he didn’t move. “Elio. Wait.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t look at him. His face was aflame, with embarrassment, shame, anger, upset. He couldn’t believe they’d just fought over something so stupid - but he was angry that Oliver couldn’t understand. Didn’t even try. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He felt like a loser. He felt so out of place. He felt wrong. He felt like he would lose Oliver, anytime now, and the thought of having his heart broken all over again, like two years before, made him feel terrified, physically sick. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio,” Oliver tried again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Stop me, Elio thought. He wanted Oliver to make him stay. Show that he wanted him, that he cared, and that he didn’t care about Elio’s shortcomings, about how boring, how young, how insecure he was. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But Oliver didn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And so Elio shook his head. He needed to get out, before he started crying like the stupid child that he was. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I gotta go, Oliver.” He pulled his shirt on, didn’t brush away the curls that fell in front of his eyes. “I’ll - I’ll see you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver didn’t speak. Stood, his face frozen. With one last look to him, Elio left. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, I know, Elio is dramatic. And yes I know, this chapter was very angsty. But I promise this story has a happy ending and I promise these two will figure it out. They just have to be ridiculous first... </p>
<p>Thanks for all your comments to the previous chapter! I read them all and I loved them. When you comment you keep me going - I don’t feel like I’m talking to myself! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, too... </p>
<p>Love from me</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>I love you more than anything else in the world. You know that.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> <em>I’m sorry we got into a fight. If I was harsh with you, I didn’t mean to. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Please come back. I want to hold you in my arms. I can’t believe this happened, right after we made love. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> <em>O. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio read the texts, sat on a seat on the subway that was taking him back to his dorm. A tear rolled down his cheek, scalding hot, and he rubbed it away with the palm of his hand, angrily. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He looked up. An old lady sat across from him in the near deserted carriage, a look of concern in her eyes - fuck. Now he was making a scene with strangers, too, making them pity him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio hardened his features, took a deep breath to swallow down the upset he was feeling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">Sometimes I don’t feel that you love me, he wanted to respond. But was </span>that the truth? That he didn’t feel Oliver loved him?</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. This was his first relationship, the first time he’d been in love - the first time he’d been loved back. Was it supposed to feel that way? Like he just slotted into someone’s life. Like he was an addition, something to make things even more fun, more interesting. A pretty knick knack to decorate an already perfect wall. </span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">And like a thing, like an addition, he felt like he could be made rid of. If he left, if Oliver left him, would Oliver’s life change at all? <br/></span>He’d go back to his daily existence, and it would be easy, because it was already full. Complete.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver had been able to go back to New York after Crema, Elio’s taste still on his lips, Elio’s body still under his fingers, and restart his life, begin a new relationship in a matter of weeks. While Elio had been devastated, had taken months to recover, Oliver was building a new life. Having sex with a new person; making plans, lifelong plans.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Nothing was different now. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio was fun and interesting, provided good company, a body for sex - for now. But Oliver had so many alternatives, so many options - if Elio wasn’t there, he wouldn’t lose much.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Without Oliver, Elio would lose everything.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It wasn’t right. Elio couldn’t let himself be swept along in a huge mistake again - he wasn’t sure he would survive it this time. He needed to have control, to take matters into his own hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> <em>You keep saying I know that, but the truth is that I don’t know anything. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> <em>I’m sorry I’m like this. I know I make no sense, but it makes sense to me. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He pressed send before he could change his mind. As the train approached the platform, he watched the little tick on the screen confirm that the texts had been sent.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He began typing again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s2">I can’t just stand and wait for you to get bored of me and leave me again. Because it will happen for sure, and then Oliver my heart will shatter</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">No. He couldn’t; he couldn’t send this. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> <em>I think we’ll both hurt each other so it’s better this way. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"> <em>I love you but I can’t do this. I need some time. I’m sorry. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He pressed send, quickly. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His hands shook uncontrollably. He turned off his phone, put it away in his school bag. His eyes burned, and he could no longer stop himself. He hid his face into the palm of his hands, and sobbed quietly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And as Elio got back home that morning, head pounding with hangover, his chest hurt just the same. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The same as when he ended things with Oliver, weeks ago, with those texts on the subway. And now, now it was Oliver’s turn. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">God. Elio had made such a mess of everything.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lucy was in the lounge when he returned, and her eyes went wide when she saw him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh wow, Elio! Didn’t think I’d see you back so early. Are you okay? How did it go?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio swallowed. He just wanted to hide himself into his room. He wanted to stop thinking.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“He broke up with me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He held Lucy’s eyes. Her expression was confused, alarmed. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“For good, this time. He said he can’t do this. Just like I thought.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lucy’s face contracted in misery. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, Elio. Are you sure - maybe it’s a misunderstanding...”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s not,” Elio interrupted her. His heart beat fast again. He set his jaw, feeling tears pushing at the back of his eyes. “And this is why I didn’t want to talk to him, this is why I didn’t want to see him, and no one - no one gave you the right to ask him to come get me last night.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lucy stood, unmoving, her eyes still wide, and now sad. Elio knew he was being unfair; it wasn’t Lucy’s fault - she’d meant well, she didn’t know. It was unfair of him to take it out on her.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m - I’m sorry, Elio. I was worried about you, I -“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I need to study,” Elio lied, looking away, hoping she wouldn’t notice his bright eyes.He needed to be alone. “I’m going to my room.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He left, before Lucy could say anything else. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s2">I never wanted it to end this way. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio stared at his phone. Backtracked; deleted the text.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was night time, and he hadn’t been able to do anything, except hide in his room, think, think about Oliver, and how much he’d screwed up. Thankfully Rob left him alone most of the time, and so did Lucy. They only came to knock at some point, asked if he needed anything. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio needed Oliver. Only him.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"><em>I’m sorry</em>, he typed again.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t know what else to say. He pressed send.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s2">I’m sorry, too. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s2">O. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio’s fingers itched to call Oliver. Just for a few minutes, just to hear his voice.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s2">I was an idiot when I broke it off with you and I’m sorry, please Oliver you have to believe me</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sent. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">God. He sounded so desperate, so pathetic. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio covered his face with a hand, pressed the palm against his eyes, which were already wet. The pressure hurt his forehead, but he’d take anything to distract himself from the pain in his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2"></span>
  <em>Just take some time, Elio. I think it would be good for both of us. Some time to think.</em>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The words flashed in front of Elio’s eyes like they did on the screen of his phone. That’s what he’d said he wanted, when he’d broken up with Oliver, right? Oliver was just giving him what he wanted.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Another text made his screen light up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s2">I will always love you. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio closed his eyes, feeling his heart break a little more. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all your comments to the previous chapter! </p><p>Keep them coming... I read them all and they’re my inspiration to keep writing. X</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>I miss you every day. And I’m sorry every day.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">I know you said to take some time but I hope I’m not annoying you with my texts. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">It’s just, I went to our favorite cafe today. I wished you were with me. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">Elio </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio’s face burned. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His heart beat fast, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being so silly, and pathetic. The words blinked at him from his unsent texts to Oliver, and he deleted them each time. He could not make himself send them. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But texting him, even without pressing the damn button which would let Oliver read his messages, made Elio feel close to him even despite everything. He wasn’t ready to let go yet, he didn’t think he ever would be.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And the irony of the situation did not escape him - how only a couple of weeks ago he was the one not responding to Oliver’s texts, he was the one being chased. He felt like the biggest idiot right now.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Standing in the kitchen in his apartment, he made himself a cup of tea. He drank it, slowly, letting the liquid burn his tongue.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He heard voices; and then Lucy and Rob came into the room. They were holding hands.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked away.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey,” Lucy greeted, a smile in her voice. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio made himself smile back. Rob was at the fridge, looking for drinks, and so Elio stepped closer to Lucy, took a deep breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“Listen, I - I wanted to apologize. I was an asshole, the other day.” He lowered his eyes, but then forced himself to look up again. “Of course it wasn’t your fault, what happened. Oliver just got tired of my crap, and rightly so.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lucy smiled at him. She pursed her lips, her eyes kind of sad.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t think you should give up. On Oliver. Not so easily, anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She looked at him for a few more moments - Elio didn’t know what to say, and so just held her eyes, a small smile on his lips, grateful for her concern. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lucy patted his hand on the breakfast table, and then stepped away, going to join Rob on the couch.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio sighed. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He looked at his phone, laying quiet on the table. Picked it up again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"> <em>You don’t have to say anything but I would love to hear from you. Even just a word. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"> <em>I love you. Elio. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And this time, he pressed send. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Nothing came through that night, no response, no matter how many times Elio checked his phone, almost obsessively so, until he hid it under his pillow and forced himself to close his eyes, wishing for sleep to come quickly.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The next morning, when he woke up, though, there was a text waiting for him. One that made his heart throb. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em> <span class="s3">I love you too. You know I do. O x </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio made himself close his phone. Made himself open his books, try to study. He clutched his mug of coffee, trying to focus. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He needed to give Oliver space, no matter how much he wanted to text back, keep the conversation going. No matter how much he wanted to tell Oliver how happy those words had made him feel.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s Friday. Can’t you go to him?” Rob said later that evening. “It sounds like he wants to keep things going anyway. I would go to him, surprise him, maybe what he wants is to see that you won’t give up.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio bit his lower lip. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His face burned just at the thought, a certain level of worry, and fear that Oliver perhaps didn’t want to see him. Fear of being rejected. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But what if it wasn’t the case? What if Rob was right? Did Elio really have anything to lose?</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver had always been happy to see him. Oliver had never rejected him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver loved him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Of course, Elio had been to Oliver’s place enough times that he knew not even to stop at concierge, and walked right in, to the elevator to Oliver’s floor.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His heart beat a little faster as he crossed the hallway, which was quiet, nobody out and about that evening. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then, as he neared Oliver’s apartment, he heard voices. Oliver’s voice; and a female voice, speaking to him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Alright. I’ll see you on Monday. Thanks for tonight.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio stopped, to see the woman, on Oliver’s doorstep, leaning towards him to hug him goodbye. Then she walked away, towards the elevator on the other side of the building - thankfully the opposite way as Elio.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And Elio wanted to leave, too; stood, frozen, his jaw set, trying and failing to stop his mind going into overdrive. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He took a step back, face aflame.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was too late to leave now.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Never mind,” Elio responded. He could spare the both of them, try and leave anyway, pretend he never came.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio. Wait.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Even with his back to him, Elio could hear the sound of Oliver’s footsteps, getting closer. He stopped.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Don’t bother.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I - wasn’t expecting you, Elio.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio turned around. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Obviously not,” he said bitterly.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver shook his head. “It’s not how you think it is.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Seriously?” Elio couldn’t help a sneer. “I can’t believe you’re using that line on me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m using it because it’s true. She’s a colleague, and a friend. That’s it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked down, swallowed, set his jaw. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Is this why you’re so defensive?” His eyes were bright, but he didn’t allow himself to cry. He just felt angry. Betrayed. “You love me, huh.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He turned back around, started walking away. He didn’t care to hear anything else - he didn’t care if he was overreacting. This whole idea of coming here tonight had been a mistake, and he was the one to blame.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But he’d taken all but a couple of steps, before he had to stop - his wrist seized in Oliver’s hand, the older man’s fingers holding onto him in a tight grip.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Wait.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Why?” Elio turned around. “What’s the point? I was an idiot for coming here.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He tried to shrug Oliver off, but the older man’s grip didn’t budge.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Let me go.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. Elio. Don’t - leave, thinking the worst. She’s my friend. She knows about us. There’s nothing between her and me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">Elio shook his head - he just wanted to be alone.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Please,” Oliver continued. “Please, just come to my apartment. Let’s not do this here.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Do what?” Elio looked up into Oliver’s eyes. “There’s nothing to do. You’ve already broken up with me. And you’ve already found someone else to replace me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Why won’t you listen to me?” Oliver’s voice was louder, now. “I haven’t replaced you. I could never replace you!”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“And how would I know? I come here and - and I see that woman leaving your apartment, I -“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He couldn’t finish his sentence. Because Oliver cupped his face, pulled him to himself, and kissed him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d missed the feel of Oliver’s lips. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He missed the way they kissed his. The way Oliver kissed him, the way he held his face, the weight of his fingers on his cheekbones. The way Oliver took control and guided him, and pushed into the kiss until he took Elio’s breath away.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As upset, as angry, as annoyed Elio was, both with Oliver and with himself, he couldn’t break the kiss - he could only kiss back. And he did. His lips softened after the first few moments, and he gave in, surrendered, opened his mouth to Oliver. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He wasn’t being coherent, he knew that. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But he’d missed Oliver so much. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They were still kissing when they got into Oliver’s apartment, and Elio felt starved, thirsty. He let Oliver take off his shirt and unbutton his jeans, and he did the same to him, urgent hands touching every bit of naked skin that they could reach.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio refused to listen to any of the thoughts jumbling in his head. He wanted Oliver; Oliver wanted him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Oliver sat on the couch, Elio straddled him, kissing, moaning. Breathing hard. The days of separation had had their effect on his body already and Elio grit his teeth, felt Oliver in him even more than before. Closed his eyes, and held onto Oliver’s shoulders, Oliver’s hands on his backside, both of them intent on taking their pleasure, no matter what it took. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">In bed, later, they lay side by side, not talking, for a while.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So you really have nothing going on with that woman.” Elio was the first to speak.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver turned on his side, towards him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. She’s a friend. And she knows about us.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio rubbed a hand on his face, across his eyes, feeling his heart skip a beat. He was embarrassed.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Well, I’m sorry I - but you can understand how. How it seemed.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver was quiet for a while. Then he pulled up to sitting, the bedsheet covering him from the waist down. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He reached out a hand; slowly, he traced Elio’s lips with his index finger. Caressed down, to his chin, carefully. Elio closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“But I need to understand why you don’t trust me.” Oliver’s voice was calm. And yet his words clashed with it, and with the soft, seductive movements of his fingers on Elio’s skin. “You think I’d betray you, so easily? You think I’d replace you so easily?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t - I don’t think that.” Elio opened his eyes, looked at Oliver. Alarmed. He didn’t want to fight again.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver stroked Elio’s fringe out of his forehead, gently.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes, you do. And I feel responsible because - because I must have made you feel that way.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio took a deep breath. “No, Oliver. You haven’t. I don’t know - I don’t know why I feel that way. But please - I don’t want to fight.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">There was a moment of silence, in which Oliver looked into his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We’re not fighting,” he said, and his voice was still warm, controlled. “I just want to understand.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">“Can we,” Elio rubbed his lips against the pads of Oliver’s fingers, an impression of a kiss. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” He felt so tired.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s lips stretched into a small, tight smile. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes. Of course we can.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He lay back down. Lifted his arm, and Elio curled up under it, his back to Oliver’s chest, feeling Oliver’s mouth press against his curls. Hoped they could stay like this, pressed against each other, the whole night.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments are welcome and appreciated!!! X</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>Elio are u ok? U didn’t come back so I just wanted 2 check that everything is fine!</em>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3"> <em>Xoxo </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The screen of Elio’s phone shone as it lit up with a text. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio blinked, rubbed a hand over his eyes, waiting slowly for consciousness to return. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but from the light filtering through the curtains he could tell it was morning.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He read Lucy’s text, and his brain pieced up the memories of last night. Coming to Oliver’s place, their argument; spending the night with him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio placed the phone back on the nightstand, and curled up tighter under the sheets, the cotton warm on his naked body.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He closed his eyes for a moment. He had his back towards the other half of the bed, so he couldn’t see, but he could hear it was too quiet for Oliver to still be in bed. He was used to his breathing, to the way the mattress moved as he shifted on it.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio took a deep breath. He wished he could postpone anything that was surely about to happen, now. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He knew they had to talk, but also, he didn’t want to. He wished they could stay in the warm, blissed limbo they had hidden into last night, in each other’s arms and in each other’s body. He didn’t want to think - he didn’t want to ask himself why everything had seemed so difficult, lately.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Not even two years ago, when they were still tiptoeing around each other - when Oliver had gone off to get married- not even then things had seemed so complicated. They were easy: Elio wanted Oliver. Elio loved Oliver.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But now that he had him, now that what he wanted was in his grasp... he was terrified. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Terrified of losing everything. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His jeans and t-shirt on, Elio took another deep breath, and padded to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He could hear noises from there - water running, the clinking of a mug on the countertop. He brought a hand to his curls, rubbing the top of his head awkwardly, and walked closer.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey,” Oliver greeted, a small smile on his face. He was drying a glass with a cloth - always the tidy one. “Do you want some coffee?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio gave him a small, tentative smile back.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I - yes, please.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He watched as Oliver loaded the coffee machine, started it. Kept his eyes on the coffee as it poured into his cup, hot and fuming. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He was waiting for Oliver to say something, but the older man stayed silent. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio bit his lip. He worried his hands together, fingers nervously picking on each other. He didn’t want to lose what they had last night, what they had claimed back. It seemed like a magical moment, a little break from the worry and the fights and the misunderstandings - Elio wasn’t ready to let that go.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And so he took a deep breath, filled his chest with courage, and stepped close to Oliver, and kissed him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck and kissed him, and kissed him, until the moment of hesitation and surprise from Oliver melted into desire and want from his side, too. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s strong arms wrapped around Elio’s body, and Elio tried to push himself into the kiss even more. He closed his eyes, blocking everything from outside - the light and noises from the window, the smells from the kitchen, the beats of his own heart. He pressed himself against Oliver completely, and soon he felt the other man hard against his thigh.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Bedroom?” Elio stopped the kiss just for a moment, just to ask.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. Here.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver turned them around. Walked Elio backwards, until they reached the kitchen table, and Elio went willingly, only holding on with his arms around Oliver’s neck for guidance. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver pushed him to lie back on the table, moved the books and newspapers on it out of the way. He pulled Elio’s jeans down, and Elio wrapped his legs around Oliver’s waist obediently. He licked Oliver’s fingers when the older man pushed them in his mouth. Closed his eyes at the sensation of those fingers inside him. A brief moment, because soon after Oliver pushed in instead, strong hands holding onto Elio’s bony hips. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio arched his back, moaned loud, and tried to breathe in time with Oliver’s urgent thrusts, torn between closing his eyes, forgetting the world, or keeping them on Oliver, taking in all his beauty, thinking about how desperately he loved him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver kissed him on the forehead at the end, pulled out of him, carefully. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio lay back for a few more moment, letting his heartbeat slow down. He could see Oliver zip himself back up, and he wanted to move, get up, but his legs refused to obey. His abdomen twitched, sore, and he felt himself flush up in embarrassment thinking of the evidence of their lovemaking down his thighs.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver seemed to know what he was thinking.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you a shower.” Wrapped his arms around Elio’s back, under his knees, and lifted him into his arms, Elio holding onto his neck with a surprised breath.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver carried him to the bathroom, by the shower.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“There’s a clean towel here. Take your time.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And he left, closing the door behind him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio showered, his head and heart full of confusion.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t know what to do. Oliver had wanted to talk the night before, but now he seemed okay not to. He’d been happy to have sex with him, twice in fact, but he’d sent him to the bathroom to wash, on his own, like he were a guest, or perhaps a one night stand. He’d seemed cold, all of a sudden. And yes, that was perhaps all in Elio’s head; but he really didn’t know what to do, now.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d loved spending the night with Oliver. He’d loved the sex, the closeness. He’d missed it. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But what about now? What was the next step?</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He dried himself up quickly. He put his jeans on, then padded to the bedroom to retrieve his t-shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He remembered the coffee that Oliver had made, not even an hour ago - and now that seemed like so long ago.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He walked back to the living room. Oh, what a deja vu - he’d done exactly the same thing, been just as awkward an hour ago, before he’d taken what he’d wanted. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And now, look at him. Back to square one.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m - I’m done. With the shower. If you want to use it,” he said, quietly, to Oliver. The older man was by the window, smoking a cigarette.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh.” He stubbed it out in an ashtray. “Thanks. Need to be downtown in an hour. A colleague’s book launch.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio bit the inside of his cheek, feeling disappointment gnaw at his insides. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He wanted to ask if he could go with him. A couple of months ago, at the beginning of everything, that would have been a given.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But now, instead, they looked at each other for a long moment. Elio couldn’t make himself say it; too terrified, too worried about the answer, about being toomuch, too overwhelming. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And Oliver looked like he wanted to say something, too, but stayed quiet instead. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He just nodded. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then walked to Elio, cupped his cheek with a hand. Stroked his thumb across his cheekbone, and reached down to kiss the boy’s lips, quickly. And then stepped away into the hallway. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Have you ever had a moment with a person you like or even love, where you can’t make yourself do anything, because you’re scared anything you do is wrong?</p><p>Well, that’s what’s happening to Elio... </p><p> </p><p>Please leave me a comment if you’ve read this far ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">And what happened next, Elio would have never expected.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His father called him, asked him to a video call. It wasn’t strange, per se, they sometimes had them; but Elio felt there was something they needed to tell him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He was a bit apprehensive as he logged into the call. And then, he realised why. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His mother and father were separating. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio was shocked into silence for several moments. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We will always be here for you, darling,” Annella reassured, her expression caring and attentive as always.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Of course. Of course,” echoed Samuel. “And we will be here for each other, too. We are a family.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio shook his head. His heart beat so fast he thought he would hyperventilate.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“But we aren’t. Not now that you’re not - married anymore.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We are married, still,” Samuel said. “We are just taking some time, for a while. Your mother is staying with her sister, and -“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“- and we’ll just see how it goes, sweetheart,” Annella joined him. “We just need some time.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We are still your parents,” Samuel said. “Nothing has changed.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked at them for a long while. At their faces, serene. Almost unaffected. At their eyes that held concern only for him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He swallowed.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m not a child,” he said then, though he wanted to bite his own tongue, because that sounded exactly what a child would say. “You can just be straight with me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You know we wouldn’t lie to you. Never have, and never will.” Samuel’s eyes were firm. “We wanted you to know.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio felt his eyes burn, and he looked away in frustration - he didn’t want his parents to see him cry. But he couldn’t help it. He brushed away a tear from his cheek.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh sweetheart,” Annella said. “Nous t’aimerons toujours.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah,” Elio nodded. He took a breath. He knew his parents loved him, he knew they had done the right thing by speaking to him. Of course. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It just hurt, a lot.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I have to go,” he said, and finally looked back at the screen. “I have - I have a lot to study.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was a lie, and he was sure Annella and Samuel knew it.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Alright tesoro. Look after yourself,” Annella said. “Please call any time,” Samuel added.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio nodded, and closed the call. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Hey, I’ve tried to call. Call me back if you can. x O</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">I just want to know that you’re ok. Call me, or text me back. Please x O</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">I’m worried about you baby. </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">I’m here if you need me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">O. </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">Elio clutched his phone in his hand as he walked from the subway station. </span>He’d seen all of Oliver’s missed calls. Read all of his texts.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But he hadn’t known what to say. There wasn’t anything to say, really.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">After the call with his parents ended, he’d sat there, numb for a while, thinking about what they’d just told him. It seemed so unreal, so unlike them - but perhaps Elio had been so checked out these past few months, with college, travelling, and his relationship with Oliver, that he hadn’t noticed anything. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Perhaps he’d been checked out since the whole thing with Oliver started that he hadn’t noticed any issue in his parents’ marriage.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then his phone had started to buzz with calls and texts from Oliver. Clearly, his parents had called him, too. They treated him like a son, always had, so it wasn’t a surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">Elio had left his apartment, and got on the subway, almost on autopilot.<br/>
</span>Now, as he approached Oliver’s building, his heart beat fast, and he really hoped Oliver was home. He hadn’t been able to text back, or pick up his calls, he couldn’t face talking right now. But he needed him. He really needed him.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, Elio, thank God. I was starting to get worried,” Oliver said when he opened the door.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t wait. He walked over, and into Oliver’s arms, wrapped his around the older man’s chest and hid his face into his shoulder. He let himself breathe out only when he felt Oliver’s arms tight around his body. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s alright,” Oliver murmured softly into Elio’s hair. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He seemed to understand that Elio didn’t want to talk, not now. He didn’t ask questions. He just walked them both to the bedroom, and lay down, Elio curling up against him - and Oliver kept his lips pressed into Elio’s temple, into his warm curls. Didn’t say anything and just listened to Elio’s laboured breath, and Elio was grateful. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">When he started crying softly, all he wanted was Oliver next to him, not judging, not giving advice, not trying to make it better. He just wanted him there - and Oliver seemed to know, just held him in his arms, in silence. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then, in the early hours of the morning, it just happened, so naturally that Elio almost didn’t noticed when they started. Their kisses began slow, the both of them looking into each other’s eyes in the dark, Oliver murmuring softly to him - words like I love you, you’re beautiful, you’re perfect. You’re all I want. Elio just listened, his mind cloudy, but craving normality, not wanting to be coddled, or cheered up, not wanting Oliver to try and fix him. He just listened and kissed back, wanting his body to respond, wanting to feel their skin against each other, the comforting warmth of Oliver’s body, the familiar feeling of the rough pads of his fingers, the solidity of his muscles, the texture of the coarse hair on his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio became hard quickly, and the adrenaline in his veins felt good, arousal clearing his mind and body of any bad thought like it did with any bad hangover. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His hand slid down Oliver’s body, slowly, found him hard, too.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio hadn’t spoken since getting to Oliver’s place, and his voice sounded rough when he did now, when he said “Fuck me,” on Oliver’s mouth, eyes closed. Just wanting to feel him, and nothing else.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio, baby.” Oliver’s voice, in return, was concerned. “We don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to give me anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">No. No. Elio didn’t want this. Elio didn’t want concern, didn’t want pity. He just wanted normality. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">All these fights, all these misunderstandings. All these separations. Elio didn’t want a reminder of that. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He just wanted him and Oliver, just them, as they should be, pretend everything was fine.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio shook his head, his lips brushing Oliver’s, and then his hands were busy opening Oliver’s lounging pants, pushing them down his thighs even while Oliver was lying down. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t wait for Oliver to say anything, just moved so that his face was down to Oliver’s crotch, and then took him into his mouth. Listened, satisfied, to Oliver’s surprised intake of breath.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Baby,” Oliver tried. His hand travelled down to brush Elio’s fringe away from his forehead. Elio closed his eyes, took Oliver deeper, as deep as he could, his brow furrowed with the effort, and his hand took Oliver’s, brought it to his curls, encouraging him to hold on to them.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He worked hard and fast, sucking and swallowing around Oliver. Using all the tricks that he knew his boyfriend loved. He didn’t want to give Oliver the opportunity to protest, say that he shouldn’t do this, that he was upset. He wasn’t upset. He loved Oliver - he’d just been reminded how much, how deeply.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He did his best, listened to Oliver’s groans, to his heavy breathing. He tried to ignore his own fatigue, but luckily Oliver could read him so well. And luckily, instead of worrying, instead of pulling back, Oliver’s hand grabbed his curls again, tight, and he took over, fucking his mouth, just like Elio wanted.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">When Oliver came, after minutes, Elio swallowed, held him in his mouth until Oliver collapsed back on the bed, out of breath, eyes closed. Elio’s throat ached, but he didn’t care. He’d felt better, he’d felt how he’d wanted to feel. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I want to get back together,” Elio murmured against Oliver’s chest a little later, as they lay curled up on the bed, quiet. Oliver had made Elio come too, with fingers and mouth, and then cleaned them both carefully.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I want to get back together, for real.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He had his eyes closed, but he opened them to look at Oliver, as the older man tilted his chin up gently with a hand. And they held each other’s gaze in the dark, for a long moment.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Then, Oliver kissed his forehead; the top of his head, and pulled him tighter against his body. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio felt exhausted.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He closed his eyes, welcoming sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I KNOW. Annella and Samuel 😭 </p><p> </p><p>BUT trust me! </p><p>Also please leave me a comment if you have read this chapter. Thanks!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Elio woke to the sound of muted voices coming from outside the room.</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He blinked, slowly letting consciousness make him aware of his surroundings. He was in Oliver’s bed, in his bedroom m, which was still bathed in darkness - Oliver must have left the curtains drawn to let him sleep.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He could hear Oliver’s voice, next door. A female voice too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘I thought this was over.’</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘He needs me, now. I’m not going to leave him on his own.’</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘Okay, so this is the reason, then?’</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘No! No it’s not the reason. The reason is that I love him, and I’ve already told you.’</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘Oliver, he’s nineteen! How many more times is that kid going to break up with you? How do you know he’s not sleeping with someone else?’</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘You don’t even know him, Em. Just - leave this to me. I know what I’m doing. And I know what I want.’</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s voice seemed so sure. There was silence, then; and Elio held his breath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He knew the conversation wasn’t for him to listen to, but he couldn’t help it if they were loud enough that he could hear. He closed his eyes a moment, and took a breath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He didn’t know who that woman was, he didn’t know what was going on. But - he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He wanted to be better. He wanted to learn and to grow. For him, and for Oliver.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He bit his lower lip, knowing he was frowning, and now completely awake, though he was still curled up under the covers. He waited for a little while; but perhaps he’d been so in his own head that he hadn’t heard the end of the conversation, or the woman leaving.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The door opened slowly a few moments later. Oliver appeared, and his lips stretched into a smile on seeing Elio awake.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey,” Oliver said, softly. He walked over to him, and reached out, brushed a few curls away from Elio’s temple. He was quiet for a moment. His voice was soft when he spoke.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Did we wake you up.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio wondered if he should lie, say that he hadn’t heard anything. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But no. Lies were never good, whether big or small. He wanted to change, he wanted to grow up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Who was she,” he asked, trying to keep his voice level. He was only asking. Not trying to start a fight.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver stroked a few more curls away from his face, thoughtful.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“My sister.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio nodded, closed his eyes for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“She doesn’t like me, does she.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“She doesn’t know you.” Oliver took a deep breath. “So what she thinks doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio kept his eyes closed a few more moments. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His whole body wanted to tense up. Protest - worry, get upset. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Because Oliver could be lying. Because he didn’t know who that woman was, he didn’t know what else she might have said, or what else Oliver might have said about him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">A few days ago, perhaps Elio would have wondered if Oliver just wanted to sleep with him, keep him quiet for the next time they would have sex.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But he wouldn’t let his mind do this to him, or to Oliver. He was going to trust him, he was going to listen to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio nodded, and turned his face slowly, towards Oliver’s hand, kissed his thumb.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Do you feel like getting up?” Oliver asked quietly. “We don’t have to, but I thought perhaps we could go for a walk. It’s a nice day, we could grab some coffee and go to Central Park.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio thought for a moment. And then pressed his face into Oliver’s palm, nodded. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His hair was still damp as he came out of the shower and dressed, and it curled in messy ringlets around his face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver took his face into his hands as soon as Elio walked into his living room, and kissed him, softly. He tasted vaguely of coffee, but mostly of Oliver, and Elio relaxed against him, breathed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He let Oliver guide him out of the apartment with a hand on the small of his back. Oliver held his hand for a while as they walked - their index and middle fingers linked, and Elio’s chest felt so full - and then bought their breakfast, coffee and croissants from one of their favourite places near the park. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio had tried to just enjoy the moment, stop his mind from overthinking, but he knew they had to talk, and so he readied himself as they sat down on a bench, in a quieter corner of the park.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“How do you feel?” Oliver started. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And Elio looked down, at where their hands rested on the seat of the bench between them, their little fingers close, not interlinked but not quite apart, either. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m okay,” he nodded. “Thanks for - yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He heard Oliver take in a long breath.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Thanks for believing me. Earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked up, met Oliver’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, I -“ he shook his head. “I was being - horrible, before. Oliver, I want you to know. I didn’t mean to make it so difficult for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It was Oliver’s turn to shake his head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We’ve both made mistakes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“But I didn’t have to make everything worse,” Elio’s said, and his voice was a little firmer, less hesitant. “I just let my - anxiety run wild and I didn’t know how to stop it, and I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver was quiet - and Elio knew he was giving him some time to organise his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I felt so jealous, all the time, so jealous, and - and insecure, and like I couldn’t compete with your friends, and your life, and the women and the men that you could have, here, all these opportunities,” Elio looked down, feeling himself flush up with embarrassment, and with something else - a sting in his chest now that he thought about the reasons of his fear. “I can’t - I couldn’t think about losing you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Out of the corner of his eye he saw Oliver nod.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“And I should have been more reassuring,” Oliver said. “I should have been more careful of your feelings, I should have helped.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio met Oliver’s gaze again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I should have not acted like such a child.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hey,” Oliver interrupted him gently. “I want you to be able to always tell me how you feel. And if you need reassurance, I should give it to you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio held his eyes. With the palm of his hand, he brushed away a tiny tear that had begun to slide down his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It was hard, when you - when you had to leave, the first time. It was so hard. But - I should trust you, and I - I shouldn’t have been that insecure-“</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He couldn’t finish his sentence; because Oliver reached over, and kissed him, cupping his cheek with a hand. Softly and slowly, and pressed his lips against Elio’s in soft kisses a few times after before pulling back. Elio’s heart beat fast when it ended.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It was hard for me, too, but I know I wasn’t fair on you,” Oliver said, looking into Elio’s eyes. “I love you. I know it’s not enough for me to just tell you, so I’ll do whatever it takes to show you. And tell you again, every time you need me to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He was still holding Elio’s cheek into his palm, and with his thumb he brushed away another tear, that felt so scalding on Elio’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio pressed his lips together into a small smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I love you,” he responded, softly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry I hurt you again.” Oliver continued. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t everything you need me to be. But I’ll do whatever it takes to remind you. Anything you need,” He kissed his lips again, quickly. “Remind you that I love you. That I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. That you are the most clever and the most stubborn and the most maddening person I’ve ever met and that I have never stopped thinking about you.” He reached closer, nuzzled the side of Elio’s throat. “Remind you that I would spend all my waking time making love to you, and then dream of your moans and of your naked body when I’m asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio closed his eyes. Let Oliver’s voice hypnotise him, like it always managed to do.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Just promise me you’ll tell me when you feel insecure. Or sad. Or fragile, or. Any way you feel.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver was looking at him, his blue eyes so full of love and concern that Elio couldn’t help but meet him with the same look, and take a breath.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Why did it happen?” He asked, and somehow, he knew Oliver would understand who he was talking about now. “Why, I don’t - I don’t understand.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Relationships are - a strange thing, if you’re not part of them. You can never understand what really goes on between two people,” Oliver replied gently. “But I know your parents still really love each other.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“They could have stayed together,” Elio sighed, knowing he wasn’t making sense - but he’d made a promise to be truthful. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver sighed, too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“My parents stayed together. But they weren’t happy.” He stroked Elio’s cheek with his thumb. “Your parents are trying to find what’s best for them. And that’s much more honest.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His eyes were still wide, calm. Caring. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And Elio nodded. Shuffled closer, pushed his forehead against Oliver’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Elio looked at Oliver.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The older man was asleep beside him. It was still early - seven in the morning, Elio had glanced at his phone quickly when he’d woken up. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d woken up, for some reason, and now didn’t feel like going to sleep again, so he took a few moments to just look at his boyfriend who still slept.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It reminded him of their first night together. Back in Italy, a couple of years before. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lying together in Oliver’s bed, which was Elio’s bed, which was really two single beds pushed together. The way that it hadn’t mattered, because they’d spent the night intertwined; Elio had spent the night with Oliver on him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">As much as what had followed that summer and even later on that year had been so painful, as much as Elio never wished to remember that, let alone relive it - he did wish he could relive their first time.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Relive the way they’d both been excited, but nervous. The way they both couldn’t wait, were greedy for touch, for taste, the way they couldn’t stop smiling into each other’s mouths because they were finally there, finally together doing what they’d wanted to, what their bodies had been desiring for weeks. The way they, nonetheless, touched each other with so much reverence and hesitation.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver had been the one to take the lead, of course - he’d been the one with the experience. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio’s abdomen had quivered then, twisted itself into knots, just like it was doing now, right now even just remembering, at the thought that he was losing his virginity, giving it to Oliver, to keep, forever.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And Oliver had been careful and attentive. Soft, and confident where it was needed, guiding Elio. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio was scared the closer they seemed to get to the actual moment, the actual act, itself - but afterwards, he realised there was no need to be. Yes, it had hurt - but what first time doesn’t. Elio thought it poetic - it was scary, but he still cherished what he felt. It was necessary. It was his gateway, his compromise, if he wanted to have Oliver inside of him like he’d dreamed of, since the very first day that Oliver had arrived. His heart skipped a beat, now and then, when he remembered realising that yes, it had happened - yes, Oliver liked him too, Oliver wanted to be with him. Oliver desired him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Even though Elio didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this gift, it had been given to him anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And so he breathed, relaxed his body. Let Oliver in. First his fingers; and Elio had wanted to close his eyes, had wanted so terribly, but Oliver was asking him to keep them open, to look at him. Tell him if it hurt.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It hurt, but it didn’t hurt enough for Elio to want it to stop, not in a million years. Elio would have wanted it to go on forever. Would have wanted to make love with Oliver forever.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d wanted to close his eyes when Oliver pushed into him. He’d closed his eyes for a few moments, but then had forced himself to open them again, to look. Oliver was sweaty, and beautiful, his shoulders and bicep muscles tense, his ash blonde hair soft in the dim light from the window. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The way he looked into Elio’s eyes as he fucked him made Elio’s stomach twist even tighter. It was so intimate. So loving. Something Elio had never experienced before, and something he was sure he was not going to experience with anyone else, ever.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And right now, watching Oliver sleep, quiet, perfect, Elio wished he could relive that moment. The very first moment he’d felt Oliver inside his body. The first time he’d felt as if he’d given all of himself to him, because all his reactions, his emotions, his feelings, what his body was experiencing, were no longer his - it was as if Oliver could control them all, play them and heighten them and prolong them, himself. All Elio could do was lie there, head back, spine arched, attempting to breathe and to look at Oliver and hold his legs around his waist just like the older man told him to do. It was so hard, because all he wanted to do was give himself over. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">That night, Elio was sure, he’d stopped to belong to himself. He’d become Oliver’s, totally and completely.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">So now, even though he wished to relive that very first time - the nervousness, the fear, the hesitation, the way his body hadn’t known how to feel before it all happened - Elio knew that he could feel all that every time he and Oliver made love.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He sighed, pensive, watching Oliver sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He never wanted to lose this - and yet he nearly did, this time by his own doing. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He needed to work on himself, that was for sure. But even if he loved Oliver - even if Oliver loved him, and even if they stayed together for years and years - they could still end up separated, just like his parents. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It wasn’t fair.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The thought of Annella and Samuel made him sigh again. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t, anyway. He had a lot to do - he had classes to go to, tests to study for. As much as he didn’t want to leave this bed, now, he had to be at Juilliard in just over an hour.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He took another deep breath, and forced himself to get up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Later that evening, he was in his room, filling a duffel bag with a few necessities - a change of clothes, a new toothbrush, books for school - when Rob came in.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, hi. You leaving?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t look up, still intent on picking clothes. “Yeah. Going to Oliver’s for a few days.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So... all is good now, right?” Rob asked, a smile in his voice. “You gonna move in with him soon or what?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">This time, Elio looked up. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Don’t get too excited, Lucy can’t take my room just yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Rob rolled his eyes, playfully enough. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“But what’s the point? You’re always at his, you may as well move in. He’s basically your - husband, or something.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio bit his lower lip. “Wow, you want to get rid of me so bad, huh.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Rob looked at him, a little taken aback. And Elio took a breath, realising he’d used a harsher tone than he’d meant to. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But, irrationally, he’d felt as if backed into a corner. He’d just got back with Oliver; of course he wanted to spend time with him. But he didn’t want to be - too much, he didn’t want to push things so strongly and so intensely that they needed space, that they needed to get away from each other. Perhaps that’s what had happened to his parents. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And Elio knew he could be a lot. He knew he needed to work on himself, manage his worries, manage his expectations of Oliver.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He looked back down at his bag; heard Rob take a step closer.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It was just a joke,” his roommate said, and patted his arm lightly. “See you later, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah. Later,” Elio nodded. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You sure you’re happy for me to stay over?” Elio asked later, as he and Oliver walked back to Oliver’s building. They’d gone for a walk, the crisp air biting gently at their skin.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Of course I am,” Oliver looked at him, a gentle frown between his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t even ask.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t know, I just,” Elio shook his head, pursed his lips. “I wanted to make sure, I guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He wasn’t looking at Oliver, but he felt the older man wrap an arm around his waist, pull him against himself gently.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m always very happy every time I have you with me,” Oliver said softly, warmly. His hand reached to cup Elio’s cheek, making him look up to meet Oliver’s eyes, which shone dark blue in the light of the street lamps. “And I don’t want to see you frown,” Oliver added. He was smiling gently, and Elio knew it wasn’t a reprimand. “You purse your lips when you do. And I want to see these lips in their full beauty. Red and sexy.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He stroked his thumb across the corner of Elio’s mouth, and the boy rolled his eyes playfully, gently smacked Oliver’s shoulder with a hand. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You dork.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m a dork, huh.” Oliver’s eyes gleamed with mischief. He was still holding Elio around the waist, and they were alone, nobody else walking along the street at that time of the night. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s smile widened.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’ll show you dork.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t know what happened. He could only react with a squeak, as he was pushed off balance by Oliver, held in the older man’s arms but tilted backwards, and he wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck, as he was kissed, passionately.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His heart skipped a beat, and he felt the flush on his cheeks - and all he could do was kiss back, smiling into the kiss at his dorky, ridiculous boyfriend, who managed to make him forget about his anxieties, at least for a little while. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Will I ever get tired of writing about Elio and Oliver’s first time?</p><p>No, no I won’t. 😆</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“I wanna get good at it.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver chuckled, softly. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You are already good at it. You were good at it from the very first time.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio tksked, playfully enough. Looked up, and smirked at his boyfriend from where he was, kneeling on the bed, face above Oliver’s pelvis. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Liar.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Come here.” Oliver shook his head, and reached out with his hand, to cup Elio’s cheek in his palm. He guided the boy towards himself on the bed, kissing him on the lips as soon as he was close enough. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio smiled against his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So you don’t want a blowjob tonight. Is that it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I want a blowjob always.” Oliver smiled too. “Especially from you.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Especially? What is that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He was being playful, again, and so was Oliver in his response. He reached out to tickle Elio under his armpits, and Elio tried to jerk away, laughing, squealing, yelling at him to stop. Until they ended up kissing again, breathless. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I love you,” Elio murmured against Oliver’s lips. Smiled when Oliver responded, just as softly, ‘I love you too.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio went back to the job he’d left momentarily unfinished - going down on Oliver, straddling him on Oliver’s bed - and didn’t stop until he could taste Oliver, until the older man was lying down on the mattress, catching his breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio spent the night, as he’d done for the whole week. The morning after, he had class early, and so he left - almost on tiptoes, as he didn’t want to wake Oliver. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Mid-morning, he received a text. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>My sister is having a get together with friends and family this Sunday. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Go with me? What do you think? </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>O x </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Are you sure?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p2">
  
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>More than sure. O x </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio was nervous, of course. He didn’t care about the other guests - Oliver’s sister, Emily, was well off, had a large house, and space to invite many people. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He was afraid of Emily. Of her judgement. He’d heard what she’d said to Oliver, a few weeks before. He knew she didn’t trust him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And he did want to make her change her mind, he did want to - maybe try and make friends with her.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Not that it was easy, as he discovered. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Emily looked at him as they arrived, greeted the both of them, politely, but didn’t say much else. Disappears soon after, to the balcony, to talk to other people. Elio let out the breath he was holding.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Come on,” Oliver took his hand, intertwined their fingers. “Let’s go get a drink.” He reached out and kissed Elio on the cheek. “Relax.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Emily didn’t come to talk to them again. Elio had decided to try and let his thoughts drift - and try and enjoy himself. Oliver was still holding his hand; introducing him to everyone he knew. Refilled Elio’s glass when he’d finished his wine. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t speak a lot, mostly observed, curious. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“Well, hi. Look who’s here.”</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The assured voice of a man made both Elio and Oliver turn around. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The voice belonged to an equally confident looking man. Tall, with black eyes, seemingly a little older than Oliver, perhaps in his early thirties.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hi, Luke.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oliver! Feels like an age since I’ve seen you,” the man greeted Oliver back.</span>
</p><p class="p2">Elio watched him. The man’s eyes seemed to scan them, quickly but thoroughly, with such an interest that made Elio a little uncomfortable. He must have noticed them holding hands, because he commented straight away.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, wow. So this must be your new boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Well. We’ve been together for quite a while, now,” Oliver corrected.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Luke tilted his head, his attention now completely on Elio. He was holding a glass of something - it didn’t look like wine, more like a liquor - and his breath smelled like alcohol.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I mean, wow. He’s a beauty.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio felt like taking a step back, didn’t like the way that man was staring at him - and he certainly would have if he had been on his own. But here, with Oliver by his side and Oliver’s hand in his hand, he stood his ground.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver cleared his throat, a sound to politely make Luke move on from his staring, Elio imagined. The man’s eyes moved to Oliver then.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Well, congratulations, Oliver. I mean, look at this. No wonder you and I had to break it off.” He looked back to Elio, his eyes so focussed and interested. “He’s gorgeous.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Alright, that’s enough.” Oliver’s voice was firm, perhaps a little louder now, unless Elio had imagined that. He glanced at his boyfriend, and his features were tense.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio’s heart beat fast. He didn’t want to drink anymore; suddenly, he wanted some air, and to be away from this man who kept talking about him as if he wasn’t even there. He wanted to be alone with Oliver, and ask him what exactly Luke had meant with what he’d said. </span>
  <span class="s3">No wonder you and I had to break it off.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Sorry, sorry, Oliver. I was thinking out loud again, wasn’t I.” Luke chuckled, his eyes drifting to Elio again. “I mean no harm though. He’s just a beauty, a real beauty. What can I say.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio felt Oliver’s fingers tighten around his.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Right. I think we’re going to have a look at the balcony. Excuse us.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">He was leading Elio away before giving Luke a chance to reply, even - not that Elio was complaining.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio wasn’t sure the terrace, full of party guests, could be the ideal location to be left alone for a while, but Oliver led him to a smaller, more secluded balcony off the hallway. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio took a breath in the crispy air of the evening. His heart still beat fast, his head still confused.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Sorry about that,” Oliver shook his head, brought Elio’s hand to his mouth to kiss. “He shouldn’t have talked about you that way.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“What did he mean? When he said you two had to break it off?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio was surprised at his own voice. Firm and sure, and surprisingly, his mind seemed to want to cooperate in putting his thoughts together right then. He needed to know now, he felt like he couldn’t possibly go home, fall asleep, with that awful idea in his brain.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver sighed. “He’s drunk.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So he was lying? He just talked shit? Is this what you’re saying?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio.” Oliver’s voice was no louder than a whisper. “Please lower your voice.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio obeyed, but continued. “Oliver, answer my question.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Another sigh. “He’s no one. Just someone I - saw, once.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio shook his head. He’d pulled his hand back from Oliver, and now held it in a nervous fist by his side. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“And when exactly was this ‘once’? Was this when you were seeing me?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Elio...”</span>
</p><p class="p2">“Please answer me.”</p><p class="p2">Elio didn’t know where his strength came from. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wished he hadn’t drank anything - while a few minutes ago the alcohol felt pleasant in his veins, now it clouded his mind in a way that he detested.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I think we should go home. Talk there.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s eyes were firm, clear. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio nodded.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yes. I think so too.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for all your comments! I read them all and I love them. Keep them coming! X</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘Can we talk. Please. I have something to tell you.’</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s voice over the phone had made Elio pause. He’d thought to say he didn’t want to talk to him, because as much as it hurt to utter those words, nothing would have been as painful as speaking to a married Oliver. To an Oliver who no longer belonged to him, who probably never had.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">So Elio had wanted to refuse. He’d wanted to cut the conversation short right there. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But something had made him stop. Wait. Something in Oliver’s voice.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘I didn’t get married. I couldn’t. Baby, I couldn’t.’</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s voice was so heartfelt, so full of sentiment. Seemed honest - and then again Elio didn’t have any reason not to believe him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver had always been honest with him.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘What happened,’ Elio allowed himself to ask. Voice tentative, scared - but nonetheless, suddenly, full of hope. Oliver’s wedding was meant to happen a month ago.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">‘I couldn’t,’ Oliver replied in a breath. ‘It was a lie. It was too big a lie. And I missed you, I missed you so much.’</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio closed his eyes. Pressed the phone to his ear, and listened to Oliver, in silence. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Oliver told him of his change of heart. Of how he’d never been sure, of course not. But he’d been with Elizabeth before coming to Italy, and he’d fallen back into it once he was back in New York City, and in the pressures of his family, the pressures of his job. It sounded cliché, but he’d actually realised, while in Italy, that happiness was a completely different thing altogether. And that he could make do without his family, his father and mother, if he had to, for his happiness.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d felt like he had a new family, now. If Elio still wanted him, that is.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio had been so scared. Excited, overwhelmed - but still scared. When they’d hang up, he’d sat for a while, thinking. He’d tapped onto his phone so many times to look at the recent calls - at Oliver’s American number, appearing there finally, after so long. Like a dream. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d texted Oliver, later that day. After having waited a while, chewing his lower lip, his hands trembling. After thinking of talking to his mom, to Marzia maybe, maybe his dad. But he didn’t do any of that. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He texted Oliver. Asked him to call him again. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And that was how they’d restarted their relationship. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">They hadn’t spoken much about past lovers. And this was, perhaps, why this seemed so wrong now. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s not what you think.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“God,” Elio was one step away from yelling. He walked back a few steps, to make space between him and Oliver as they left the building where the party was. “Stop saying that! Just stop!” he snapped, hands out, nervously gesturing to nothing. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It’s the truth, this is why I’m saying it. And you should let me speak.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked away, kept walking. The street, luckily, was quiet. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t even know if I want to hear it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Wait.” Oliver took his wrist, made him stop. A reminiscence of something that had happened before, and Elio set his jaw in annoyance. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Are you going to say that guy was lying?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He looked at Oliver finally, his eyes hard. And Oliver shook his head. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. He wasn’t. But me and him - we only saw each other once, months ago. Before you and I even talked again. After I called off the wedding. When I was confused, and - lost. And obviously prone to doing something stupid.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio rolled his eyes. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I thought you said you would trust me.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“How can I trust you, when these things keep coming up? Like this, randomly, and - and I -“</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry this happened this way. But he was so irrelevant to me that I honestly even forgot. Forgot to mention him, even. We haven’t talked about the past and what - what happened while we were together.” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio looked at him in the eyes, defiant. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“A lie by omission, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver sighed. Took a tentative step towards him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry. I really, really didn’t think about it.” He reached out; cupped Elio’s cheek with a hand, tried to bridge the gap between them, between their mouths. So in his own mind, lost in thoughts about what had happened and what Oliver had just said, Elio let it happen, until he felt Oliver’s lips on his - Oliver’s breath, the smell of wine - and remembered where they were. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He turned away from him, refused to be kissed. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No. You smell of alcohol.” He stopped back, looked away to the empty street. “And I don’t... I’m upset, about this.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oliver sighed again. His voice was quieter. “I know you are.” Elio still felt his eyes on himself, even though he was refusing to look at him. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I know you are, and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for how he acted. I’m sorry he behaved like a dick and made you feel uncomfortable.” Then, softly: “I would have punched him, right then.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Elio kept his eyes on the street, still refused to look at Oliver. But his cheeks burned; there was something tightening in his chest, too. He didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want any of this. They had been making progress, and now - now they were arguing again. He was so afraid it meant something bad, that they were meant to always be arguing, that something was always going to come up and make them angry at each other. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He loved Oliver, he loved him with all of himself - but this hurt. It was hard, so hard, working on this relationship, make himself trust again, make himself believe he was the one Oliver wanted and nobody else. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We haven’t talked about the past,” Oliver said again. His voice soft, tentative. Patient. “But if you want to, we can. I’ll tell you everything you want to know and you can tell me everything you feel like telling me. Just - let’s not fight over this. Please.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">There was silence. A car drove past, lonely. The late night air was getting pungent, and Elio felt like shivering. He looked back to Oliver. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m - I’m going home, tonight.” He swallowed, but kept his face straight, not wanting to give away any emotion. He needed some space right now, to think. “I need to, anyway. I have - I have class early tomorrow and - and a test to study for. So it’s better that way.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He held Oliver’s eyes. The older man looked at him; his expression saddened. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">But he nodded, sighed again. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah. Okay. Let’s find you a taxi.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He turned around, looking to the street. Raised his head to flag down a driver from the junction. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">And Elio breathed, set his jaw, knowing he needed to clear his head.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter coming soon! Please let me know what you think x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Why did you and dad break up, mom?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio knew his voice sounded lost. He felt lost, too.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He clutched his phone in his hand and against his face, grateful that they weren’t video calling, and his mother couldn’t see his eyes right that moment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Darling.” Annella’s voice was quiet, and soft. “It’s - a long story. Well, maybe perhaps not even that long.” A pause. “Your father was very honest with me, just like he’s always been and like I have been with him.” There was a little hesitation in her voice, as if she was pondering whether she should discuss this with her son. But they’d always been open about everything, ever since Elio was little. Elio knew this wasn’t going to change now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">She continued.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“He told me he has experienced something with another woman. Nothing physical, no, nothing outward. He wouldn’t do anything like that - that’s not how we decided our relationship would be. He just told me he met someone, perhaps a year ago. By chance on a train. He thought he could like her, perhaps even love her.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio could not help but interrupt her. “He has someone else?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“No, darling, no,” Annella replied. She sounded serene, her tone somehow at odds with what she was saying - it was making Elio frown. “He barely spoke to her, never saw her again after that trip. But it made him think.” A sigh. “He told me that at the end, he realised it had been so fleeting. That it was just a passing emotion, that disappeared as fast as it came. But he still felt the need to tell me. We tell each other everything, you know that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio was frowning, uncomprehending. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“But then - if nothing happened...”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I told him he should take some time to think. That if he wants, he can pursue that experience. Because we’ve always said that we’d rather be honest, than live in a trap.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“But did he say he wants to? Does he want someone else?” Elio continued.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“No. He doesn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“And you don’t believe him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Annella chuckled gently.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I do. But that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have his freedom, his time. His space. I want to give that to him. He would give it to me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio took a breath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">It was difficult; but he was beginning to understand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Do you still love him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Of course, amore.” Annella said tenderly. “Of course I do.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">There was a moment of silence. Elio thought about Annella’s words. They somehow made sense. For his parents, certainly; for the way they were, the way they’d raised him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Oliver loves you, too,” Annella added, gently. She gave him a few moments, and then continued. “He seems open, and honest, he seems to care about how you’re feeling. He’s upset that you’re hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio sighed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I know. It was just... it reminded me that I don’t know- stuff about him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“We can’t know everything about another person. But the important thing is to be honest,” Annella said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio sighed. There was no point in talking to his mom unless he followed her advice, and was honest with her himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I think - I think what - bothered me, maybe, was that I - that I knew he’d been with that guy. That I found out, like that. I guess I was - jealous. I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Annella let him talk, let him try to figure out his thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Then, she spoke.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Oliver has a life in New York. His own life. But do you feel like he’s including you in it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Another way of gently encouraging him to reach his own conclusions. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio swallowed. Oliver had never once kept him hidden. He’d asked Elio to join him at almost every social event. He didn’t mind him showing up at Columbia, with his colleagues, with his students.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I feel -“ he started. Thought again. “He’s been trying. He has. It’s just hard.” Sighed.“I don’t know why. Maybe it’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I don’t think the fault is of either of you. You’ve both been trying.” Annella paused for a moment. “Like I told you, tesoro. The most important thing, is to be honest. No matter how hard it seems.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">I miss your smile. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">I miss seeing it as I come home from a long day and you’re at my apartment, sleepy on the couch. Waiting for me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">I miss the feel of your skin under my fingers. The way it’s tight over your hipbones, over your stomach. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">I was thinking of your mouth today. I’ve thought about it for hours. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Your mouth, and nothing else. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">There was this guy, today. I think he was your age, probably. Maybe a couple of years older. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">He was handsome. He was attractive. Seeing him, I thought that, in another life, I probably would have pursued him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">But not in this life. In this life, all I want is you. He just made me think of you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio read the texts. One after the other, greedily. And then re-read them, once, twice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He was in his last class of the day, a seminar on music history, but he was so distracted. He knew all about Bach already, anyway, and thankfully he was sitting at the back of the room, and could leave unnoticed ten minutes before the end.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">His chest was warm. He felt a flush on his cheeks because of what Oliver had written. Oliver certainly knew what to say, what buttons to push, and in a different situation Elio would have been annoyed at Oliver and at himself for falling for his tricks so easily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">But not now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He’d been thinking about Oliver all day, about what Annella had said. And now his texts. Elio read them again, let himself be taken in, again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">By the gentle, seductive tone of the first few, a courtship, a nudge in the direction that Oliver was setting - Elio let himself be lured by his words, by the images they created. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Then he let himself feel the light sting of jealousy at the last message. He knew that’s what Oliver wanted. And to make him see that he was doing what he’d promised. He was being honest; he was telling him how he felt.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Stood outside the college hall, biting his lower lip, uncaring of the cold November wind that enveloped him, Elio tapped on his phone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3"><em>You should not text me like this. I nearly missed class because of you.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">The response came quickly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">What should I do, then? When I miss you, if not text you to tell you what I’m thinking? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Stop thinking of me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Should I think about someone else? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio bit his lip harder. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>No. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Let me see you, baby. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>No.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Please, Elio. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>I still need to think. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>You can think in my apartment. In bed next to me. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>No. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>I won’t touch you. I promise. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>I just want to look at you. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>I want to have you there. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>How do I know that you won’t touch me? How do I know that you won’t want to have sex </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Let me come to your place, then. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Nothing can happen there. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Please. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio chewed on his lower lip. Looked up, at the students leaving the lecture hall, chattering groups in the evening light. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He frowned, and sighed, his mind in turmoil. He missed Oliver. As always. He always fell for it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Fine. Come tomorrow</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Evening? I’m done with class at 6. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p3">
  
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Yes. See you then. Ox </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Any comments? 😉</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio clutched his mug in his hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">The tea had gone a little lukewarm, he’d forgotten about his drink for a while, when he’d seen Oliver’s text telling him he was on his way.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Now, as he walked back to the living room, he thought whether he should just drop the whole thing in the sink - but didn’t. He wanted something to hold, to feel less awkward.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Are you alright?” Oliver asked, following him into the room.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio walked to the couch, cleared his throat. Sat down. “I’m okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He knew he looked tense. He was tense, but he didn’t even know why.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“And have you been - okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver’s question came after a few moments. He was hesitating, unsure - like Elio had rarely seen him. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He knew what the older man was asking, though. And so he nodded, looked down for a moment. Only then realised how he’d wrapped his arms around himself, sitting rigid, almost defensive.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver took one step closer. He was acting cautious, as if trying to approach a scared animal. Elio looked up at him, gave him a tiny smile, just the tense movement of his lips, but one with which he told him it was okay. To sit down, next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver did. Leaving a little distance, but his torso leaning towards Elio, his shoulders open.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I know why you’re here, Oliver, and I -“ Elio started, with a deep breath.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I’m here, because I love you,” Oliver said only.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio nodded again. “I know.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Then you’ll know that I didn’t mean to hurt you, when I didn’t tell you about - about that guy, or about - other things about my past.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio felt his body go even more rigid. He breathed, trying to relax. He felt Oliver’s eyes on himself, observing him carefully.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Elio, we - we said you’d tell me how you feel.” Oliver’s voice was gentle. Quiet. “Please tell me what’s in your mind.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I’ve thought about it.” Elio started. He was still holding his arms close to his body. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I wondered if maybe - maybe I’m not ready for a relationship. And this is why I’m acting so - so weird. So immature.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. Oliver waited, quiet.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“The truth is that - I’m scared, I guess. I’m scared, and I’m sorry that - that I’m putting you through this, that I’m putting us both through this.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Elio, no-“ Oliver tried, but was quiet again when Elio looked at him, asking him with his eyes to let him finish.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I know that I can’t continue - obsessing about you leaving me, obsessing about the past, because then I’m going to- I’m going to make it happen.” He looked up to Oliver again. “You know?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver held his eyes. “Whatever you need, Elio. Whatever you want to know, whatever you need me to tell you...”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Can we continue like this, though?” Elio blinked - he knew his eyes were bright with tears. “With me, being insecure, even though I’m trying, and yet here I am. Thinking and worrying about the past.” He looked back down, to the floor. “You will leave me. One day, you just will.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He held his eyes on the floor. His heart had started beating faster, and he felt afraid to turn, and look towards Oliver. He felt afraid of whatever answer he was going to get. He was being honest - just like his mother had said he should be - but he was still terrified of what could happen.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Until Oliver moved. Slowly. Elio almost didn’t see him, just heard him move, crouch on the floor in front of him. Reach out, with a hand, to brush a curl away from Elio’s forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">So Elio watched then, as Oliver smiled gently and lay his head on Elio’s thighs, his eyes closing, him settling there with a breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">His voice rumbled soft and quiet against Elio’s skin.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I met Luke through a friend. It was when I was starting to realise I couldn’t carry on the facade, and I couldn’t go through with the wedding.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">A pause. Elio didn’t move; almost held his breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver continued.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I guess I didn’t fully realise what mental state I was in. I guess I wanted to - test myself, maybe. I had a few drinks one night with some of my friends, and he was there. I didn’t bother to - talk to him, much, get to know him. It wasn’t what I was interested in.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">This time, Elio did hold his breath.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Did you sleep with him?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">There was another long sigh. Then Oliver pulled up, still on his knees but he was looking up into Elio’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I didn’t. I couldn’t. We went back to his, had one more drink, kissed. He wanted to go further. I said I needed to get home, I had work the day after, and called myself a taxi.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio swallowed. Oliver was still looking up into him, and his eyes were wide. Honest. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio could feel he was telling the truth.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He lifted a hand and placed it, gentle, on Oliver’s cheek. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver spoke again.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“It just made me realise that I’d been stupid. That what other people thought didn’t matter, that I am who I am, and that - that I was my real self only when I was with you.” He smiled, softly again, then turned around to kiss Elio’s palm. “I knew it all along, of course. I’d missed you all along. And I knew I had made the best decision for my life when I stopped doing what others expected me to.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio swallowed again. He kept his eyes in Oliver’s. His chest was tight; he was moved. He was still scared, still nervous, still felt guilty; but he felt so full of love. He felt he wanted to believe. He had no reason not to. Oliver had been trying so hard.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I’m happy you made that decision,” Elio murmured softly. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver smiled gently again.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">A nod. Then Elio pulled back a little; Oliver pushed up on his knees, so that he was level with Elio’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">And kissed him.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don’t have a lot of time to write these days so I hope this short chapter will be fine for now.<br/>Who wants some loving smut for the next one....?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">And of course, Elio kissed back.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He’d missed it, even for such a short time, and for a few moments he allowed himself to forget that they were in his apartment, and not Oliver’s, in his lounge that he shared with other students who could come home anytime.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He remembered it, but then Oliver pushed him gently back on the couch, and Elio forgot everything again.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He laughed into Oliver’s mouth when the older man lay on him, his large hand cupping Elio’s cheek like he always liked to do, his other hand holding himself up on the couch, just barely, though his groin was pressed firmly against Elio’s.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He laughed because he could feel that Oliver was hard - and for his part, he was too, and needy, and soon he was moaning against Oliver’s lips.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">It wasn’t desperate. Oliver was kissing him slowly, though deeply, but Elio had missed him so much, wanted him so much that all his senses were on high alert, his whole body yearning for him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“We should - go somewhere more private,” Oliver managed to whisper against Elio’s throat, voice rough. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He bit his skin there, gently, but with the whisper of teeth.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Ah,” Elio couldn’t help it. How could Oliver think he could move anywhere, go anywhere? Now? When he was doing this?</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Keep going like this, and I won’t need to go anywhere else in a few moments.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">That earned him a chuckle from Oliver, a low, delicious rumble, lower against his collarbone.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“That late, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He punctuated his teasing with a thrust of his hips down against Elio’s, and the boy grit his teeth, pleasure flooding his body, making his stomach clench.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I hate you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver chuckled again, very quietly, but didn’t stop his movements, though he slowed down, changed his thrusts into a slow rotation, a slow rhythmic pressure against Elio. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio closed his eyes. He was so far gone, already, and he didn’t intend to try and fight it. Consequences be damned; he’d deal with aftermath later. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">So when he felt Oliver’s arm stroke down from his cheek, to his side, his hand slide behind him and down the back of his gym pants, Elio’s eyes would have rolled back if they weren’t already closed.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">The hand pushed underneath his underwear; fingers searching, and finding their goal.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Fuck, Oliver.” Elio couldn’t brave opening his eyes. He just held onto his boyfriend, breathed. Focussed on the sensation of his fingers, touching him there. His index pushing inside, as dry as it was, but welcome and missed nonetheless.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Now... do you still hate me?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">Elio could barely register Oliver’s words. The gentle teasing in his ear.</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He was holding onto Oliver’s shoulders, the older man’s body pinning his own down on the couch - and Oliver’s fingers, pressing inside, a gentle, delicious burn, Elio’s body fighting to adjust, to make space. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver knew exactly where to touch, and he was bold, didn’t skimp on the pressure.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio’s hips shot up, against Oliver’s, but he was trapped, had nowhere to go.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">It felt so good.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Are you okay?” Oliver whispered against Elio’s cheek, a light undercurrent of worry always present when they had sex. </span>
</p><p class="p3">“Fuck, yes.” Elio almost blushed at how lewd he was being.</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver gave back as much as he got.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“More?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio didn’t even know if he could take more. He wanted to blush again at how worked up he’d allowed himself to get; as if they hadn’t had sex in months. As if this was his first time. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">But it was like they’d overcome a mountain, as if even his body felt freer.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“More,” he nodded against Oliver’s shoulder. “Please.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver growled against the side of his throat at his begging. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">The second finger burned for a little longer; but then, it slid inside, and Oliver didn’t stop at the first knuckle, and Elio cried out, bucked up again. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He felt sweaty, and his throat was dry, but he held Oliver tighter, and let his hips push back and forth, up into Oliver and down into the fingers inside him, and listened to Oliver’s voice, encouraging, whispering. ‘Like that. Just like that.’</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">This was certainly a different way to have sex, for Elio at least, with his eyes closed and his brain entirely focussed on his own pleasure, and completely at Oliver’s mercy, in his hands, under him. A few more seconds, and his body was no longer his own; his orgasm took over, filling him and warming him, taking away his air but turning his muscles into liquid, his insides into pleasure.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">When it was over, Elio breathed for a few long moments, before opening his eyes. When he did, Oliver was looking at him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“God.” Elio smiled; his cheeks flushed.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Okay?” Oliver asked.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio nodded. Then grimaced, when Oliver removed his fingers, his body protesting.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“What about you?” Elio brushed his fringe out of his eyes. He could still feel Oliver, hard, against his thigh.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Oliver cleared his throat, and gave him a little smile.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Can I take you to mine? I don’t trust that we’re going to have much more luck if we stay right here on this couch.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio chuckled, felt his cheeks go even warmer as he remembered where they were. Who knows if anyone had heard or seen anything.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Besides,” Oliver pulled off of him, slowly, with a sigh, and a mischievous light in his eyes. “This will give you time to recover a little, before round two.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“God. You really are a dork,” Elio swatted him on the bicep, laughed gently too, rolling his eyes, which only made Oliver laugh even more. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Much later, in bed, the room immersed in darkness, Elio rested his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Behind him, naked just like him, Oliver held him, chest pressed to Elio’s back. They were sweaty after making love, but neither cared. Oliver breathed slowly against his skin, asleep.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Elio blinked his eyes open. He swallowed; there was something he needed to do.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He reached out to the nightstand, and grabbed his phone, turned the screen on. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He opened a text for his mother.</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">
    <em>Hi Maman. You should call Dad. Talk to him, let him talk to you. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3"><em>I think it will be worth </em>it. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s3">I <em>love you x o x o</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter will be the epilogue ;)</p><p>Leave me a comment if you enjoyed this chapter (it will definitely help my muse 🙃)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">So what time are you back on Thursday? </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Probably evening. Around 6pm.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Nick is driving us back. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Ah ok. Say hi to him for me. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Okay, baby, will do. O x </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p4">
  <em> <span class="s3">🥺</span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">What is it?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">I’m bored without you. It’s been too long already. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Only 2 days! And only 2 more. But I miss you too. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Do you?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Of course I do, baby. Very much. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">I worked a lot so that I could keep my mind occupied, because I was thinking of you every second of my day. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Just worked? </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">No parties?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Haha. No. I’ve gone out a couple of times for drinks with Nick, but that’s all. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">But that hasn’t made me stop thinking of you. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Ohh. Nick is no match for me ;))) </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Ha. No. Nick is just a good friend. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">You should meet him, when we’re back. You’ll see what I mean. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">I’d love to. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">But. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">I trust you. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">I love you. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s5">I love you too. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s5">I’ll call you tonight. Yeah?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s5">Yeah. </span> <span class="s3">😊</span> <span class="s5"> xo xo Elio </span> </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“So, how do I look?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Elio took a sip from his champagne glass, smiled at his boyfriend. Oliver was wearing a dark blue suit over a white shirt, no tie. His dark blonde hair was a little longer, slicked back, a short, well kept beard framing his face. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">He was so handsome.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“You want me to compliment you again?” Elio teased gently, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. He placed his glass on the garden table, then wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck, pulling him close, purring with pleasure at the feel of Oliver’s hands on the small of his back. “How about this for a compliment?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">He kissed Oliver. And smiled against his lips when Oliver kissed him back, holding him more firmly against himself, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">And Elio felt his heart soar.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">They were at his parents’ villa in Crema. In the middle of a reception, full of guests, relative and friends of Annella and Samuel’s; his parents were celebrating their wedding anniversary.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">They were back together. Happy as can be; and Elio was there, in his beloved childhood home, in the arms of the love of his life.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">He felt like his heart could burst.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Elio, piccino!” His mother’s voice reached them. She sounded happy, and as they broke the kiss and turned towards her, they saw she was smiling, her eyes gleaming.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Elio, zia Licia is here - Oliver, tesoro, come meet Elio’s aunt - I think you’ve got two more to go and then you’ve met them all!” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">She took Oliver’s hand, and lead him inside the house with her. With a chuckle, Oliver followed her. Elio rolled his eyes, full of affection, and watched them go for a moment, before picking up his glass and following them inside, too. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Whoa. So, was that nearly all of your parents’ relatives and friends?” Oliver asked later, as he and Elio changed into more casual shirts in their room after dinner. </span>
</p><p class="p3">“Yeah. For now, I guess,” Elio replied with a giggle. Then he turned back towards the mirror, resuming his efforts to tame his curls off his forehead. The room was in near darkness, the only light coming from the open window, from the moon shining out on the garden outside. He wasn’t sure he could really see what he was doing.</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">So, he nearly jumped when he felt Oliver’s arms, wrapping around his chest and hips from behind; Oliver’s body pressing against his, chest to back. Oliver’s raspy chin giving him shivers, as it stroked against the delicate skin at the side of his neck.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“You look beautiful.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Oliver’s voice was so low, husky. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Elio looked into his eyes in the mirror; stopped touching his hair, his hands lowering to cover Oliver’s on his body. He let another deep shiver run through him, giving him goosebumps. He knew Oliver could feel it too.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Do I?” he asked, lowering his eyelashes, coquettish.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“You know you do.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Oliver’s voice was even lower. His lips travelled from Elio’s hairline, to the back of his neck. Elio closed his eyes; let the feel of Oliver’s mouth pressed against his nape warm him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“But you look even better without any clothes on.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Elio almost wanted to moan at Oliver’s words. At the low, suggestive tone in which they were spoken. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">He kept his eyes closed; his face flushed - he was already hard. He took one of Oliver’s hands, guided it down between his legs.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Hard. So quickly,” Oliver murmured against him, his breath warm against Elio’s skin. He was teasing, gently calling out Elio’s eagerness - just what Elio had wanted. “So you want it, huh...”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Now, Elio couldn’t help but moan.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Turning his face to the side, he breathed deep; when Oliver pressed harder between his legs, Elio couldn’t stop his hips from bucking into his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Say it,” Oliver asked. Ordered him.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Elio shivered again.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“I want it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Next thing he knew, Oliver had turned him around, held his face between the palms of his hands, and kissed him, deeply, pushing his tongue inside Elio’s mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">They hadn’t planned on staying in their room, retiring so early for the night - but now Elio didn’t care if they didn’t re-emerge until the next morning.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Ride me, baby?” Oliver asked, though his rough, demanding voice made it clear to Elio that it wasn’t a question.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">But of course, Elio didn’t think need to twice.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">He followed Oliver back to the bed. They undressed each other, quickly, impatiently. And then Elio only gave Oliver a few moments to grab the lube, apply on himself - and then he was sliding down on him, his legs open and straddling Oliver, his hands holding onto the older man’s shoulders, his teeth pressed hard into his bottom lip at the burn, the sensation of Oliver taking space inside his body.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“So fucking tight,” Oliver growled. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“So fucking big,” Elio growled back.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Oliver pulled up, grabbed his face again, kissed him - shifted inside his body, making Elio cry out, in surprise, pain and pleasure.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">It was too much, and not enough.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">For the next few minutes, all they could hear was the sound of their own bodies - the almost obscene sliding of skin against skin, their breaths. Elio’s moans, Oliver’s growls.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">When Oliver came, he bucked up, hard; his large hands holding Elio’s hips down on him. And it was so intense, and exactly what Elio’s own body needed, too. He came hard, just moments after, his breath accelerated, his heart beating fast in his chest. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Didn’t even think to check if the door was locked,” Elio murmured after. As they lay in bed, sweaty; catching their breaths.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Oliver chuckled. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“Thank god nobody barged in.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Elio turned on his side. Reached to kiss Oliver’s shoulder. Sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“I’m so happy we’re here. With my parents. And their friends.” He nuzzled into Oliver’s bicep with his nose. “I’m so happy my parents are back together.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Oliver turned towards him. He was smiling.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">“I’m happy to be here, too.” He reached out, brushed a curl behind Elio’s ear. “I’m happy to be with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">Elio looked up. At Oliver’s big, radiant smile.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">And he smiled, too. The same happiness reflected in his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>THE END </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that is the end! </p><p> </p><p>Thank you to everyone who has been following this story. I’m grateful as always, for your support and your comments - they’ve kept me writing. So, thank you! </p><p>I hope you liked the epilogue too - please, do let me know. </p><p>Love from me. Xx</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please please do leave me a comment and let me know what you think! 🙌🏻</p><p> </p><p>Come talk to me on Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/TeahousemoonAo3">here</a></p><p> </p><p>And on Tumblr: <a href="https://teahousemoonao3.tumblr.com/">here</a></p><p>Love from me xx</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>